


Lesser men would flee

by Illidria



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Hogwarts AU, Multi, OC: Herman the Niffler, OT3 now, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, yep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-05-23 10:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14932496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illidria/pseuds/Illidria
Summary: Chapter 1: 7th year, Spring HolidayAgainst better judgement, Buccaneer turned.Almost in front of his face, barely an inch away, was the werewolf from before. Its fur white, long and somehow looking stiff. The creature sitting on its haunches, seemingly calm.





	1. 7th Year, Buccaneer, Spring Holiday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NorthernWall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthernWall/gifts).



> Hey guys,
> 
> this one you owe to the wonderful NorthernWall (go check out her stuff guys, awesome!). She send in the prompt: “Do you think werewolves like ice cream?”. Maybe you can spot it ;)
> 
> Some of you may know my one-shot Hogwarts AU from tumblr. I'm going to rewrite what I already have and add it, an overarching story truly in it, though I simply can't bring myself to write a full, consecutive story about it^^ So, if you have a prompt for this one, feel free to send it in ;)
> 
> Enough of my rambling, happy reading :D

"We're lost!"

Olivier looked at him from the side, through slitted eyes, though in the semi-darkness the effect of her usually harsh and intense gaze was considerably lessened. Alas, she did not seem to be done with chewing him out, her tone of voice only underlining that fact.

"You said you've been to Miles' before and that we only had to walk for fifteen minutes until we're reaching his families safe-guards! We're walking through these fucking woods for four _hours_ now!"

Buccaneer lifted his hands in a defensive gesture, Olivier may being a good few heads smaller than him, yet her large presence looming.

"Armstrong, in my defence..."

She did not give him a chance.

"In your defence _what_? It was you that wanted to surprise Miles by apparating to him a day early! It was you that was here before! It was you that got us lost in these fucking woods?! And it would be pitch-black too, if it weren't for the fucking full moon!"

She rubbed her hands on her underarms, the shirt she wore long-sleeved indeed, some muggle rock-band on it, but the material thin.

Was clearly cold, Buccaneer had noted that about an hour ago. Had offered her his jacket and received only a not unexpected scoff as an answer. Their packed food they'd already eaten, shortly after arriving even, as Buccaneer had apparated them close to the huge lake near Miles home, having hoped for a bit of romance to spring up. The bit of atmosphere at the Yule ball hadn't been enough to untie his tongue after all. Or maybe it had been his kilt.

"It's changed somehow, okay? The last time Miles picked me up at the lake and I swear that we took the same route as today!"

They'd come to a halt at a small lake somewhere in the woods, a pond rather, it being too dark to walk further. It's water fresh and clean, the temperatures of spring not warm, though thankfully not freezing either. And apparating back home he deemed out of the question too, not willing to give up on knowing the way and her too stubborn to bring it up anyways. Olivier slumping down on a log, looking like she was in a bad mood.

Which Buccaneer knew to definitely be the case, knowing the waves she radiated in and out.

"You hungry?"

He'd meant well, really. They'd spent a week of their two-week school holidays at her parents’ town-house in London, a wonderful week in his opinion. He'd not managed to tell her his true feelings, had been too nervous for that. But they'd played quidditch in the families’ magical backyard, Olivier had gotten her muggle driver’s license and celebrated her eighteenth birthday, especially Olivier's muggleborn mother excited about that for a reason he'd probably know, if he'd listened in Muggle Studies. They'd walked through muggle and magical London and simply had a week full of fun.

And instead of staying for the second week at _his_ family’s place, like they usually did during holidays, Miles had invited them over. Tomorrow they'd planned to meet him, but Olivier and he had thought it a good idea to surprise him.

Olivier on her log shrugged.

"Yeah. We ate our sandwiches hours ago. But Gamp’s-law...I don't like twig-salad, you know?"

Buccaneer saw a chance to safe things, to shine and took it.

"I'm on it, all we need is here."

Reached into his jeans-pocket, hesitated for a moment, but then let go of these inhibitions.

They were seventeen, Olivier eighteen even, more than old enough. So he pulled out his wand, with a few flicks turning the water in the lake, what he found in the woods, to food. Simply mixing and transfiguring what was already existing. Caught it in the empty box in which their sandwiches had lain, soon full to the brim.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again, your proficiency at housekeeping-spells with never cease to amaze _and_ confuse me!"

Buccaneer grinned, plopping down next to her.

"Either you gotta help out around the house, or you don't."

Which earned him a sharp elbow to the side and a glare, though she not a second later tried the ice-cream with a lanky finger. Buccaneer trying not to blush when she liked it clean, nor when her hair, short and pink as her sister had dyed it a few days ago, fell into her eyes, genetics making it grow at amazing speeds.

Olivier's sound one of approval.

"Berry, very nice. But why ice-cream?"

He shrugged, turning away.

"Everything needed was here and it seemed like the right comfort-food for being lost in the Irish woods at night."

Miles thick accent had never ceased to amuse them, clashing horribly with Buccaneers equally thick Scottish accent. Especially so, when Miles was approached at Hogwarts, someone already having prepared to throw a slur at him for looking outlandish, only to be met with the most Irish guy there's ever been.

And Miles did indeed live very far out, though that wasn't extremely weird for a family of wizards. Buccaneer aware that his family the only occupants on a whole island being in an even higher category of "far-out".

Olivier ate in silence, him only every now and then stealing a scoop, the multi-tool Olivier had insisted on taking made good use of. Her next words forcing him to groan though.

"Maybe Miles did not notice someone being near his home, _because_ ," his rolling eyes at that immediately disputed by her, initial words stopped, "And don't look at me like that, you know that with his safeguards there must've been something that alerted him to having apparated close by!"

It seemed to Buccaneer like they'd had this discussion a thousand times already. Which was indeed the case.

"If Miles were a werewolf Armstrong, then why would he invite us over for the day after his supposed transformation?! He wouldn't be able to lift a finger!"

She shot right back.

"Miles manages school just fine too, so maybe he's found a way? Takes Wolfsbane?! It stands that he's always gone at the full moon!"

Buccaneer could not think of the usually so chipper and upbeat Miles as a werewolf. It simply did not fit with what he knew about people afflicted with the condition. And as such, he could not hold back the gripe.

"Then we'd be in the same woods as an extremely dangerous creature right now I guess!"

At which something rustled in the distance.

They stopped their squabbling immediately. Olivier got out her wand, him doing the same swiftly, the log and their ice-cream abandoned. Their voices low.

"Ideas?”

Olivier was Hogwarts’ tri-wiz champion, had faced off against a whole lot of creatures already during the first task. As such, he deemed her the expert for everything that could kill them.

"You heard the rumours that there’s a Snallygaster loose in these woods? Having escaped some smugglers?”

He moved so they were back to back, the rustling telling them clearly that something was nearing them, circling them, coming closer. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes despite the situation, his father section-head at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry.

“ _Nah Armstrong,_ I only know about werewolves in the Irish woods. Am not sure though, which one I’d face rather.”

Was tense, tried to regulate his breathing, Armstrong at his back seemingly succeeding with either. Turned with him, a light touch of her hand to his thigh alerting him to the direction of something, whatever it was, staring at them seemingly.

Silence falling over the clearing, not even leaves rustling, when he saw an eye seizing them up.

The moon illuminating it, pupil slitted like a reptiles, scales around it reinforcing his suspicions. As did a long beak parting the plant-life the creature hid behind, slightly ajar, rows upon rows of teeth showing. Scales stark in the moonlight, clawed arms and a powerful body nearing them slowly, tail swishing over the ground, forcing the sound to return to the night.

Olivier’s whisper at his side quiet, yet urgent.

“It’s wings! It’s hurt!”

And truly, one of the beast’s mighty wings was hanging down, dragging over the forests floor. Buccaneer knowing that this could very well be the reason that they were still alive, as a Snallygaster usually just attacked you from above.

Wanted to ask her what to do, not knowing how you fought against these creatures, or calmed them, only knowing that they were extremely dangerous.

All decisions taken from him when the beast made a leap forward.

Olivier pulled on his arm practically, silently shooting what seemed like a stunning spell the beasts way, which proofed to be completely useless. The log they’d sat on splintering, the steady pull on his arm helping him avoid the scaly tail swishing in his direction.

“What are we gonna do?”

Was pulled further and further, though with his much longer legs soon beside her. Her plan seemingly well thought-out.

“Run for it, I’ve got no other idea yet!”

And run they did, swerving through the trees like the devil himself was chasing them. Which wasn’t too far from the truth, though Buccaneer was aware that a Snallygaster would probably be much happier, and better fed, in its usual habitat.

Something he could not change right now though.

“Apparition?”

His shouted question, there really being no need to stay quiet now as trees were loudly cracking behind them, answered swiftly.

“Tried it when I pulled you with me. Something prevents it!”

Which meant that they had to be close to the safeguards Miles’ family put in place. Which probably meant…

“Olivier, if we’re leading this thing to…”

And instead of an answer to his newest fear, Buccaneer only got a pained yelp from Olivier, her face suddenly gone from his vision in a moment shorter than he could blink.

Her foot caught in an upstanding root, her struggle to get to her feet again hardened by the weird way in which her ankle was twisted. Their ability to outrun the Snallygaster in this environment only due to its injured wing anyway, but now taken away too.

Without thought he made use of a magic usually kept secret from others.

His body on all fours seemingly of its own accord, the sensations of bones and skin rearranging themselves, of fur growing rapidly and teeth elongating, of his whole shape changing almost second nature to him now.

Planted his paws firmly into the ground in front of Olivier, standing up, trying to scare the Snallygaster with his full height. With his coarse dark brown fur and his glinting teeth, his roar. Hoped that she had a good idea, knowing that he was strong in his bear-form, but truly too weak to defeat such a beast like the one now coming closer and closer.

Knew that being an Animagus was much more powerful than a simple transfiguration would have been, yet also aware that it still wasn’t enough.

Evaded the first slash of claws only barely, not willing to leave Olivier without protection. Could hear her moving behind him, leaves rustling, but simply knew that she wouldn’t get anywhere quickly. The second slash stinging his side, pain erupting and instincts immediately diminishing the feeling again.

His other senses strengthened too, something picked up by his nose he’d smelled before in the forbidden forest. For a moment awaited a Centaur to break through the trees, instead another furred being jumping forward.

Legs long and lanky, a back bend almost out of shape. Ears sharp and risen, snout long and teeth exposed. Hands and feet clawed, jumping at the Snallygaster in an extreme show of strength. The white furred werewolf, simply because it couldn’t be anything else, attacking the beast without hesitation.

Buccaneer knew that he should help, that the beast the werewolf had attacked just like that was incredibly powerful and not feared for nothing.

Instead he turned, Olivier looking at him, standing shakily upright, leaning on a tree. Pale in the moonlight, dirt on her face and blood running from her lip. The change back easy, his stride towards her sure.

Without hesitation he wrapped his arms around her middle, threw her over his shoulder and started to jog into the direction they’d come from. If they just managed to follow one direction for long enough, they’d be able to apparate again, to flee and alert someone who…

“Let me down!”

Swerved the fighting beasts, of course not letting her down. The path easy to follow, the Snallygaster a heavy kind of beast, having left a trail in its wake. He wondered how it had been able to sneak up on them like that. Or worse, if it had been near the clearing from the beginning, biding its time.

Buccaneer as such, fear trying to take away the air he needed to get her away, breathlessly speaking.

“I won’t, so stop trashing!”

Surprisingly, she did.

Buccaneer jogging as fast as possible, the slight fatigue from his short transformation coursing through him, battling with the fear the sounds of a vicious fight in the distance evoked.

“That was a fucking werewolf, wasn’t it?!”

Her voice even, not trembling, though he knew her long and well enough to be able to tell that she was shaken by the events.

“Looked like it, though I did not stop to ask. Attacked the beast right away, dunno why. It’s not like anybody ever could confirm that Dwayyo exist.”

The sounds of the fight in the distant ceasing, Buccaneer slowing his, or rather their, pace a little, feeling winded.

“Dad told me about it, the mythical foe of the Snallygaster or something. Supposed to look a lot like a werewolf.”

She scoffed atop his shoulder and he’d have loved to see her face now. The only thing he saw when turning a stretch of jeans, which simply wasn’t the same.

“Never occurred to anybody that there could be werewolves in America?”

Despite the situation he had to grin.

The clearing they’d started their run from reached by now, the log in splinters, though he could still spot the box with the ice-cream on the ground. Set Olivier down close to it, moving to take a look at her ankle after checking the now silent-again surroundings. She wordlessly readied her wand and stayed on the lookout.

Their talk calmed him.

“I’m sure it occurred to some, but you know how it is with local legends. Does it hurt when I do this?”

His hands moving her ankle a little, which earned him a hiss and a balled fist to his shoulder.

“Yes you idiot-bear! Do you only know housekeeping-spells, or can you heal too?”

Left her foot be, which was answer enough to her. Her next words close to a sigh.

“ _Great_ , then we need to apparate to anywhere but here. I don’t know much about healing spells either, I only can…”

Suddenly stopped speaking, ceasing to look at him. Olivier’s eyes fixed on something behind him rather, opened wide, her breath held.

Against better judgement, Buccaneer turned.

Almost in front of his face, barely an inch away, was the werewolf from before. Its fur white, long and somehow looking stiff. The creature sitting on its haunches, seemingly calm. Like a puppy would Buccaneer thought, or rather a very big dog with very big teeth. Its eyes blinking at him, _fixed_ to his, the red of them unmistakable.

A breath escaped him.

"Miles!"

The creature did not recoil, instead only stepped back a bit, trying to round him, sniffing audibly. Buccaneer understood instantly that Miles, or the werewolf, was trying to reach Olivier. Without thinking then he moved between her and the creature who could very well be his friend.

Which put a stop to everything, him and the werewolf locking eyes again, while Olivier behind him muttered “Idiot!”.

And then, like the werewolf understood something, it backed off a bit. Sniffed around some more, claws scrapping at the forests floor, sniffing loudly again, until it found their ice-cream filled lunchbox. The slight red having melted and spilt on the ground mostly, though a dog-like tongue set to lapping it up anyways.

Sounds of great content following when the creature, clearly intrigued, lifted the box with clawed hands, sticky ice-cream running over them instantly. They seemed to be forgotten.

Buccaneer moved slightly, not sure where that bout of bravery came from, inching closer to Olivier and getting ready to hoist her up again should the need arise. The words tumbling from his mouth without second thought.

“Do you think all werewolves like ice-cream?”

Her sputtered laugh one full of disbelieve, of a humour only mortal danger could evoke, though when he moved to put his arms around her, to test if they could apparate now, something rustled to their right.

And Buccaneer, his nerves now worn thin first by the Snallygaster, then by a werewolf attacking it that could very well be his transformed friend, just groaned.

_“Oh by Merlin’s saggy left…”_

The voice that spoke agitated, chiding. One Buccaneer knew.

“Javed Miles, have you truly broken out to steal the food of wanderers?!”

This was Zosimos Miles, his best friends grandfather. He’d gotten to know the man the last time he’d been here, looking a lot like Miles did, hair white and complexion dark. Facial features greatly alike too. Only the pineapple hair his best friend seemed to have gotten from another member of the family. And maybe the being a werewolf-thing.

They were ignored for the moment, the werewolf looking caught, as far as such deadly creatures could in Buccaneers opinion. Was still lapping away at the ice-cream though.

“You went out for ice-cream, really? But,” Eyes scanning the white werewolf in the moonlight, Buccaneer too seeing the dark spots on the fur, which could only mean blood. Suddenly, Miles grandfather looked at them too,” he went out to protect you two, right? You were attacked?”

Olivier nodded next to him, not fighting against his arms still around her, though her voice was as stern as always.

“By a Snallygaster, yes. The werewolf thought against it.”

Zosimos Miles nodding, eyes looking them up and down thoroughly now, staying on Buccaneer.

“You were here before, right? Buccaneer was it?”

He felt himself nod.

“You were set to visit my grandson, yes. Well, you should’ve come a day later,” looked them up and down, twigs and leaves clinging to their bodies, one of Olivier’s feet clearly immobile, the old mans eyes hanging on Buccaneers shoulder, “or maybe you came at just the right time. We knew something was in the woods but weren’t sure what. Wouldn’t have thought it to be something like that either. But alas, Miles must’ve heard you.”

Seemed pretty nonchalant about the whole matter to Buccaneer, the man producing a change of clothes from his backpack and looking at his werewolf-grandson again.

“Well, you know what happens now Miles, we can’t get going without getting it out of the way first.”

And just like that, Zosimos Miles threw clothes at his grandson.

“That should do it!”

It was not often that one could see a werewolf changing back. Snout shortening, bones cracking and fur pulling itself inside a body. The sounds horrible, crunching and howling and snorted breaths accompanying the painful display.

Buccaneer could sympathize, knew how it felt, though he at least changed deliberately. Olivier transfixed by the sight too, though he felt her lean into him, scoot back into his chest just a little. If the night hadn’t been awful situation after awful situation, he might’ve blushed.

Miles cursed in Irish Gaelic when getting up, saying something Buccaneer did not translate for the curious looking Olivier, Erse and Irish Gaelic both rich in expletives. She’d use it all the time then, swear-words her favourite.

While their friend shivered in the cold night, decidedly barer then he’d ever have liked to see him, his grandfather pulled their gazes and attention.

“I’ll get all three of you to the house now, lest this damn Snallygaster shows up again. You boys need your wounds looked after and you missy, need a good healing-spell for your ankle!”

Buccaneer expected her to go off at the “missy”, her temper a furious beast, but instead he felt her hand on his arm. Looked too, the wound one he’d barely given any thought up until now. A cut, not too deep, but seemingly not inclined to stop bleeding.

Looked into Olivier’s eyes when she seemingly was done with her inspection, trying to understand the gaze he got and failing miserably.

“You can carry her Buccaneer? If I try to heal her right here, she might grow a third foot.”

And not long after this question, Miles having pulled on the change of clothes thrown at him and his gaze carefully averting them, they were walking towards the family’s home. He was carrying Olivier again, though had opted to give her a piggyback-ride, rather than throw her over his shoulder. She knew some nasty hexes after all. Leaned onto him heavily, her breath hot against his neck.

Their walk feeling short to him, the house coming into view made of stone, seeming warm and inviting not only from afar, but also when they were let inside by a flock of women, consisting of Miles mother, sisters and grandmother. Wounds taken care off, Olivier’s sprained ankle healed with a flick of a wand and a yelp from her, and Miles face, now illuminated by something other than the moon, burning red with shame.

Soon enough the grown-ups, and a bunch of nosy sisters, left them alone in the living room.

“You saved our lives Miles.”

And just like that Olivier went over to their friend, hugging him tightly.

It felt surreal to him, her being not a particularly soft person, at least not on the surface. But right now, with her arms wound around Miles, pink-haired head barely reaching his chin, she seemed as honest as Buccaneer had ever seen her.

“I’m… I, when I heard the beast and…the wind carried your voices and I just… you know, I don’t take Wolfsbane, I’m not fully human, I…”

Olivier letting him go, though Miles was looking at them harried still, nervous, his explanation cut short by her, one hand still on his shoulder.

“What do you mean you don’t take Wolfsbane? You seemed aware of your surroundings to me, you…”

He jumbled right into her sentence, shuffling from left to right.

A jarring sight to Buccaneer, his friend suddenly looking thin in worn jeans and the loose Chudley Cannons shirt. Miles was, albeit a calm and quiet guy, usually very strong. To see him stutter and be unsure of himself was new to him.

“I’m an Irish werewolf Olivier, I… I was bitten when I was still a child, by mere accident. Ran into an Acromantula while playing in my Aunts garden. There… there was a nest in the forest surrounding her house. Irish werewolves, the very old lines, are considered protectors.”

Buccaneer asking his questions while locking eyes with his friend, red eyes level with his own.

“So you were bitten when the werewolf protected you back then? And when you heard that we were attacked, you protected us? And that’s why you’re going to Hogwarts too, even though you’re a werewolf?”

He turned away, shrugging off Olivier’s hand.

“I know that’s reckless and dangerous, I…”

Olivier seemingly had enough, Buccaneer saw it in the way her whole body took on a more rigid stance, even before her voice took on its usual sharp, but somehow encouraging edge.

“Oh cut it Miles! You are a protector and wouldn’t hurt a fly, you fought that fucking Snallygaster for crying out loud! Without second thought I might add!”

It had always seemed funny to him, that Miles was the most willing to discuss whenever someone brought up good qualities of him.

“But Armstrong, only because that bear was already there! Its blood, the scent of it, had gotten me on the right track to find you, even though I’m not even sure how…Wait!”

Red eyes on him again, Miles voice incredulous.

“You’re an Animagus!”

The skin where Miles mother had healed his arm itched.

“You changed into a bear and protected Armstrong from the Snallygaster! And you were ready to do it again when I tried to sniff her, I remember now, you…!”

The door opening interrupted them, Miles grandfather peeking in, not caring about his lively-again grandson and Buccaneer and Olivier blushing.

“Missy, you said your father was with the ministry, right? Now that we know what’s in the woods, would you mind sending him a message?”

Olivier nodding, face still a deep red.

“I can send him a Patronus. Can I do it from the backyard?”

Zosimos Miles shrugged, seemingly busy with holding back another of Miles sisters from just entering the room.

“If you feel the need to be that secretive with your Patronus, sure, go ahead.”

Which she did, silence stretching for a few moments between everybody still in attendance.

Buccaneer did not know what Olivier’s Patronus was. His own was a bear, at least he thought so, as it only ever took shape for half a second. Miles’ was a hawk, often soaring through the room in which they practiced in secret with Olivier for the tri-wiz cup. But she’d known how to cast a Patronus already, had taught them, though careful to never reveal the form it took. She…

Miles grandfather interrupted his thoughts.

“Javed, mind telling me again who the Missy is?”

Miles cleared his throat.

“Olivier Armstrong granddad, she’s a friend from school.”

Buccaneer had seen a reaction like the mans before.

“Armstrong? From the Armstrong’s?”

They both nodded.

The door to the living room fell shut.

“He’s regretting the Missy?”

Miles shrugged.

“Would probably regret it even more if Armstrong had gotten angry at him over it first. But either way Bucc, what about school now? The teachers know, but…”

“Our lips are sealed Miles, you should know that. We won’t breath a word of it to anybody, promise.”

The door opening again, Buccaneer more and more aware that this house was a dovecote, though it was Olivier having come back in again.

She seemingly had heard.

“Buccaneer’s right you know? Your no less our friend because of that. Nobody would be.”

Which stunned Miles into silence for a moment, _smiling_ silence. Meanwhile Olivier sat down on the couch again, wand peeking out of her pant-pocket and shoeless feet drawn under her body.

“You send your parents a message?”

She nodded.

“To my mom, yes. Dad would come with all the Auror’s still owing him a favour and stomp the place before I could get a word out. She already answered, some people will come by in a few hours and search the forest. I did not say anything about werewolves or bears by the way.”

Their thank you mirrored, Miles and his, though Olivier’s gaze was warm, a smirk playing along her lips.

“No problem. See it as a gift from the one who can’t change into an animal. But I have a favour to ask.”

Miles nodded, as she seemed to address him.

“Can I get something to eat?”

And with a smile at that, and lots of laughter after, Miles got them some food from the kitchen, soon his whole family joining in. The atmosphere lost the last of the tension that had lingered, all of them smiling and laughing again. Buccaneer sitting down closer to Olivier to make room for all the others, the talk and jokes lasting well into the night.

And when the clock read two in the morning, drowsiness starting to claim him too, he noticed a weight against his side. Olivier leaning into it, eyes closed and slightly snoring, asleep.

It rarely felt as good to be alive as it did then.


	2. 7th Year, Yule Ball and the morning after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fun little thing for the holidays :D  
> Try to spot all the in-jokes my love ;)
> 
> Have fun guys :D

"Would you like to dance with me?"

Gosh, they were so beautiful while dancing. Liv looked gorgeous in the teal dress, sparkling from the little rhinestones embedded into the fabric, shoulders free and pale and perfect. The expanse of her back left _open_ by the dress almost completely hidden by her hair, for the first time in ages open and cascading down. Amues dye-job perfect, Liv's hair its usual pale blond at the roots, but growing more and more blue-greenish when one moved to the tips. With the natural waves, the slight curl, she looked like a mermaid out of muggle-fairy tales.

The woman from the Daily Prophet had hardly been able to contain herself while taking official pictures, in Miles opinion clearly entranced by the Veela-aura that always seemed to radiate from Liv more strongly when she was nervous.

Would have blamed his own staring on that also, though it only explained a part of his problems.

"Miles? Are you feeling alright?"

Bucky huge now when compared to Liv, who seemed so much smaller without her robes, skirt and hoodie. With her attitude shrunken by her nerves. Was shuffling his feet, careful to not step on hers and yet stepped on constantly in return. Smiled brilliantly though, a touch of red to his cheeks, the kilt becoming him, blue, green and black. The thin streaks of yellow befitting the details on his jacket, setting him apart, the Hufflepuff who was constantly mistaken for a Slytherin, even by the teachers. More than once they'd tried to take or give points to Slytherin when Bucky had earned it, turning him into a Slytherin in their head because of how close he was to Liv and him.

A beauty too, though Miles knew that Bucky did not think of himself as one. Did not see the girls swooning behind his back since the fifth grade, after coming back after the summer break about two heads taller and a ton of baby fat having melted away. With a magical metal arm too, thought to that everybody had gotten used quite quickly. Did not notice that many of the boys wanted to be like him when they watched Hufflepuffs beater with pinpoint precision beating bludgers into the other teams’ members. Bucky not even aware that he was outstanding in Transfiguration, in Care of Magical Creatures and in Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Too busy with only looking at Liv.

"Miles! I cannot believe that you are _ignoring_ me, I..."

He resurfaced from his thoughts, turning to his date.

"Oh sorry, I was in thought. Did you say something?"

Smiled charmingly at François, the pretty Beauxbaton-boy who'd asked if he would accompany him to the Yule Ball. Who'd waited two weeks for an answer from him, because Miles had been so busy with the thought if he shouldn’t just ask either Liv or Bucky, what harm it could do?

And when Bucky had finally asked her, after he'd assured one of his best friends that his other best friend would say yes in a heartbeat. That Liv had said no to all the boys from Durmstrang and Beauxbaton, from Hogwarts in some cases even. That she'd said no to Isaac McDougal, whom they both, Bucky openly and he silently, hated for having stolen her first kiss away.

That she'd say yes, which she'd done with a blush, prompting him to take François up on his offer.

A blonde-haired boy from Beauxbaton, tall, skin tanned by the sun and his lips full. _Pouty_. He looked now like he had when not having been chosen as Beauxbaton’s champion, or when their champion had come in last at the first task.

"I asked you, Miles, if you wanted to dance at least once. _Maybe_. If you find the time in between your staring!"

The slight hostility in François voice was nothing when compared to a sour mood of Liv’s. As such Miles could not take it to heart, instead smiling at his date.

"I'm sorry, of course I'll dance with you."

They got up, went over to the ballroom-dancing group of students, everybody that could having stayed for the Yule Ball. Almost all of them would leave tomorrow morning though, to be home for Christmas, so many families having asked for exemptions to be made and to have their kids home in these trying times that the day of departure simply had been pushed back a little.

Yet, everybody seemed to be having double the fun, just to make up for barely being able to gossip tomorrow.

McDougal was dancing with a girl from Beauxbaton, after he'd asked Liv twice that was, the girl making a face each time he stepped on her feet. McGonagall and Dumbledore were showing what dancing truly could mean, taking no prisoners with their rendition of a waltz. Grumman had asked Professor Sprout to dance, and at that, their two-step wonky, a whole lot of students had finally followed onto the dancefloor.

The song changed, Miles and François staying where they were, his date looking decidedly happier now, though he could see from his vantage-point how Olivier was approached by her father. In his function as Head of the Auror’s Office, basically tasked with providing the onlookers and participants safety during the Tri Wiz Tournament, he was a guest today, had beamed when the champions, among them his daughter after all, had entered the great hall and danced. Now asked politely for a dance with his daughter, taking her hand with a grand gesture, Liv’s smile rarely so brilliant.

Watched as Buccaneer too found a new partner in little more than ten seconds, Solaris just having freed herself from a throng of Durmstrang-students, all bickering over who got to dance with her first.

In his inattentiveness he did not notice François initiate a spin.

Almost fell, catching himself at the last second, immediately trying to laugh it off. François reaction loud and quicker than he was.

"Can you not be more careful?!"

Pouting again already, though Miles had to bite back a grin at the thought that at least his accent was cute. He rubbed at his head in a sheepish kind of way, not heeding the looks they got any mind. Instead he remained polite, after all knowing that he was indeed inattentive.

"I'm so sorry again, I fear that I'm just a no-good-dancer."

Smiled and charmed François anger away, dancing with him some more, until the floor emptied, and all took their seats at the tables.

The judges and champions with their dates sitting up front, forced to be sitting ducks. Buccaneer next to Olivier, her father on her other side. Miles instead on one of the round tables littered through the room, his date having pulled him towards it. He was the only Hogwarts student at it, something he did not mind at all. The others were forthcoming, nice and polite and all trying to speak the others language to the best of their ability. Many of them he'd met before too, the foreign students having mingled well within Hogwarts.

What he did mind though, was François muttering in French with his neighbour, side eyeing him.

Deciding not to be too perturbed by that, though Miles did wonder if he'd severely misjudged his dates character, in his head made him nicer than he seemed to be. Instead of wondering set to watch Olivier and Buccaneer a little again.

Her father was clearly telling some childhood or family story, Liv crimson red and Bucky visibly laughing. Stared a bit, a smile coming unbidden, when Liv took up a chicken leg and seconds later only bones remaining, the others sitting close to them looking shocked. Not Bucky though, nor he, as they all knew just who she was.

Chuckled a little when it occurred to him that just a few years ago he'd declared her way of eating as _disgusting_.

" _Miles_!"

"Sorry, what?"

Miles thought to himself that if François were a dragon he'd be a Chinese fireball, as he was fuming like one.

"Can we talk please, _alone_?"

At which Miles nodded, following him to the big arch of the great hall.

Underneath it François started to talk, while at his back Dumbledore announced the band for tonight, a lurch going through him when he heard that Florence and the Machine started to play. He'd _always_ suspected them to be magical.

François sighing in front of him, shaking his head and speaking with an accusing edge to his voice.

"You could've just told me you were in love already. That you are Bi. I wouldn't have been offended, you know?"

Miles was flabbergasted for a moment, before stuttering a few words out.

"François, I'm not, I..."

"So you're gay? Then why are you looking at her too, huh? _He_ I would've understood..."

He felt his heart constrict, felt chocked up all of a sudden, though he'd known the truth for a long time. Was watching, always only watching and of all the people that could've noticed, that he _wanted_ to notice, his current date had to pin him down.

"I wasn't... I'm not watching anybody! I'm just unconcentrated today, I...."

Had rarely seen a face change from a kind of understanding displeasure to hurt and then anger. That did not make it any easier to bear.

" _Liar_!"

He'd never heard words to be uttered _that_ viciously, did not expect the slap and yet the only thing he could do was hold his stinging cheek, watch as François stomped away. Not at all everybody yet having started to dance, many still sitting, having watched. It made his cheek sting just that much more.

Until two very familiar figures entered his field of vision that was, seemingly apparating at his side.

"Shall I jinx him Miles? If you say so I will, I just learned how to grow him an extra ass!"

Buccaneer softer in his approach, a hand on his shoulder, arms already around him in half a hug.

"You alright? What happened?!"

When the tears started to spill over quietly, Liv leading them outside and away from prying eyes, Miles remembered distinctly how his grandfather had groaned when hearing about the ball.

_"You know Javed, somebody always cries at these things."_

He hadn’t expected it to be him.

"Miles, what happened?"

Liv so soft at times, so incredibly soft. The back of her hand against his cheek, so gently guiding his face so she could look into his eyes. Bucky meanwhile having grown slightly angry, Liv’s and his way of reacting always switching after a few moments.

"What an asshole, I knew the second that he asked you that something was up! The Yule Ball is not even going on for two hours and he already made up a reason to slap you? I will jinx him, I will..."

"You'll stay here and hug Miles, because we forgot our jackets inside!"

They were bickering, so cutely, so earnestly, Bucky’s arms around him in a heartbeat. Liv shivering next to him, bare arms full of goosebumps. Yet she held her head high.

Was the first to catch his silence.

"Miles, what is wrong, what _happened_?"

The softness with which she spoke pulled a sob from him.

"He... I wasn't paying attention to him properly, and... and was distracted. I... I think I deserved that slap."

There were no words after that, but he felt her arms around him too, heaps of hair bunching up against his face. Felt warm, at home and at the same time wrong for relishing in this feeling so much. For telling himself that they were doing this hug out of love, not the friendship-, but the romance-kind.

Only resurfacing when both loosened their arms a little, Bucky with his thumbs swiping at his cheeks. Seemingly blushing right after this gesture, though Miles found it hard to tell in the dim, probably intended to be romantic, light outside. Felt Liv's hand in his hair once, softly pulling.

"Are you feeling a bit better now?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Shall I give him a second butt? Or a boob? I can do that too, you know?"

Miles chuckled, as did Buccaneer.

"Thank you, Liv, but no. Though it would be hilarious."

"Maybe try it on Mustang when you have the chance?"

Bucky was only slowly loosening his embrace, though when he finally did, they all slowly shuffled back to the castle. Thundering music heard from the outside, pulling them in. They still stood close to each other though, watched the commotion, wildly dancing students interspersed with teachers dancing to the music too.

"If Dumbledore does a death drop in the next few minutes, I'll go and life like a hermit in the woods."

" _Please_ , I'll go and dance with him for the rest of the night!"

They all chuckled, Miles felt warmer already, felt the smile on his lips.

"What about _we_ go dancing?"

Liv's question out of the blue when one considered how she'd ranted about having to open the dance, to dance at all. Everything to do with it had set her off, if one was honest.

His reply stuck in his throat when someone screamed _"Mistletoe!"._ Someone sounding suspiciously like Mustang.

"What the..."

Bucky looking up, all three of them, truly some mistletoe hanging above them at the peak of the arch, too far away to reach. Miles immediately felt the stutters return.

"We don't... this..."

Liv's lips on his shut him up, the kiss short, yet he could not open his eyes for a few moments afterwards. Was just in time though to see her press a short kiss to Bucky's lips too.

The big guy immediately turned several shades of red.

"And now you two!"

Pointed her finger between them, not giving them even a second to doubt.

Miles taking the initiative, gosh it could be the only chance he ever got, rearing up and pecking Bucky on the lips. Who turned even redder then. Moved his mouth as if to say something, though whistling, clearly Mustangs now, kept him silent.

"Shut the fuck up Mustang!"

Liv flipping him off, a bunch of people laughing in good humour at that, though Miles spotted a pointed hat looking distinctly like McGonagall’s pushing through the crowd.

For the second time tonight he was brave.

"How about we dance a bit now, huh?"

Not waiting around but taking the other two with him.

* * *

"Merry Christmas!"

Other houses did place the girl’s rooms in such a way that boys could not reach them. _Others_. Miles had been taught on his second day how Slytherins had managed to overcome that rule, by voiding the sticking charm with simply letting tiles levitate over the surface. You tiptoed over and that was it.

Barged into the dorm with Buccaneer in tow, having guided him past the hidden entrance, the only Slytherins having stayed after the ball only Liv and him anyways.

Miles family was in Lithuania, visiting his great-uncle, whom he did not like anyways, Bucky’s parents were snowed in, the dragons hibernating. Usually the parents of a bunch of boys’ and a bunch of dragons, they’d written to him that they were kind of looking forward to the first Christmas completely alone again, if fearing it a little too. And Liv, her mom and dad as of today at her grandmothers, the one that was _not_ as fond of her half-muggleborn grandkids, having opted to stay with her friends at the castle.

" _Shhhhhh_! Herman is still sleeping!"

_“Presents!”_

Bucky was an over-excitable mess for Christmas ever damn year, tipping over the bag in his hand and spilling presents on Liv’s bed.

“I said Shhhhhh! I still need to get the last ones to hold properly!”

Was louder than they were while saying that, though Miles just watched her with a smile.

Tongue sticking out between her lips in concentration she conducted little presents on a string to tie themselves to Herman’s “nest”, which Miles had identified years ago as a repurposed cat-carrier made of wicker. It had a small hole to excite from, the cage-door Liv had gotten rid of. The little Niffler had only once escaped her bubble charm after all.

“You spoil him rotten.”

Bucky grinned at her, then looked at him and raised an eyebrow, probably hoping for back-up.

“He deserves it, he’s the best little guy around.”

Miles carefully crawled up onto the bed, leaning against the headboard next to Liv and watching how colourful string tied itself carefully into a knot. Her fingers leading her long wand in elegant movements you did not often see. She tended to be brusque after all.

Bucky took the backboard of the bed, their legs mingling and trying to find space, though well-trained. Liv’s bed had become a frequent place to talk in peace and uninterrupted after all.

“Got a good night’s sleep after everything yesterday?”

Miles wondered how the other two had been, because _he’d_ lain awake for quite some time after.

Bucky shrugged.

“All of my roommates were still packing up for the next morning and I maybe had to hex my shoes off of my feet because they hurt so much, but otherwise? Slept pretty well. It was fun.”

Liv sinking a bit further into the cushions, wand on the bedside-table now, relaxing.

“Herman was a bit stinky that I’ve been gone so long and, you know, did not take him with me when everybody’s wearing lots of jewellery. Tried to yank the necklace off me.”

Her gesture lazy, though Bucky and he had to chuckle.

"How did you get Herman to _not_ go on a rampage during the Yule Ball then?"

Liv handled him perfectly after all, always noticed when he tried to sneak away. Only once he’d been gone and that hadn’t been her fault.

"The usual bubble-charm, though I also gave him a piece of jewellery and two galleons in exchange for a peace-promise."

"Another necklace?"

Liv shook her head, the colourful bun on her head flopping from side to side.

"An old ring of my moms, she said that he could have it any way. Something about her mother in law and old dragon. Golden and with an Onyx set in. He'd not even looked at the Galleons when I finally left the room."

Bucky grinned before he spoke.

“Tried to stall?”

“You try fucking walking around looking like a woman!”

Another chuckle, though Miles thought that she still looked plenty a woman in thermo-leggings and her hoodie, though who was he to judge? Flinched a bit rather, when blue eyes landed on him.

“You went to sleep without trouble too Miles?”

Bucky’s leg inching closer to his, Liv’s hand grabbing his arm. How did he deserve friends like these, how could he ever risk this friendship for his own selfish feelings?

Through the lump in his throat he smiled.

“Yeah, I was dead tired. How many hours did we dance?”

Over four, Miles had counted each second.

So many songs, so many moves and shared laughter taking off any edge. Together they’d watched Solaris have enough of McDougal’s advances, threatening to hex him and half an hour later doing just that. Professor McGonagall having looked to the side seemingly on accident the exact moment it happened. Mustang had danced with a never-ending row of girls, though the one time he asked for a dance, he’d been declined.

Liv had almost peed herself with laughter.

A hand on his arm grabbing a bit firmer, a leg not as hesitant pushing against his. He anticipated the worry in their voices speaking at the same time, yet not how a foot pushed against him, how a head fell to his shoulder.

“You _sure_?”

“Don’t lie Miles!”

Heavily he sighed, deciding on telling them half of the truth. He simply couldn’t ruin the day, the week, this year. Not now, when he had the chance to hoard these precious moments for when he could not get them anymore. Later, he told himself and smiled.

“It’s really alright, I _am_ a bit salty about the issue, but I could understand why François did it, you know?”

Bucky was faster then Liv. Or maybe she was still too sleepy.

“Oh come on!” Gesticulated with his shiny magic metal-arm, glinting in the half-light of the dorm, standing out so rarely in their day-to-day life. “Now don’t start telling yourself that you deserved it, ok? He can be angry all he wants, but raising your hand against another person…”

“But I really did not listen to him, honestly Bucky. And I _denied_ it, I think that’s what set him off.”

He could _feel_ Liv’s brows furrow, even though he could not see it.

“Ok Miles, putting aside you _still_ blaming yourself, I’ve talked a few times with François. He’d not just go off for someone being inattentive. _Or_ he’s a really good actor.”

Bucky’s gaze burrowing under his skin he conceded, tried another way to get out of it.

“I guess there’s something more to it, though that’s not the best topic for Christmas. How about the spring break? I’ll explain everything to you then?”

Felt how unhappy they were with this solution yet respected what he wanted and nodded.

“Presents now?”

Bucky smiling, suddenly seeming like a child again, excited for the many colourfully wrapped boxes.

“Herman, _wakey wakey_!”

Liv in a sing-song-voice and with the help of a well-aimed kick to a post of the canopy bed making the Niffler’s home sway, which was followed by a very drawn out and angry little yawning-noise. Herman’s pink noise pushing out of the entrance and irritated squeaky noises directed at Liv following right after.

“Oh don’t be like that, it’s Christmas! Gifts!”

Pointed to a wrapped box, the paper around it glittering golden. The Niffler’s instincts were alight in a second.

“Here, for you! Merry Christmas.”

Olivier putting a box in his lap, Buccaneer too, while he passed around his own gifts. Bucky and he having brought their piles from their rooms also to unpack, Liv’s bed soon a mess of paper and ribbon.

“By merlin’s beard! This is the most perfect sweater _ever_ Miles!”

Held up the pink-violet abomination for Buccaneer to see, the T-Rex on it still hideous, with a Christmas hat and shooting lasers out of its mouth. In a second Liv had thrown off her hoodie and changed into the ugly sweater.

“You like it?”

_“I love it!”_

Proud of gift number one having been a hit he unwrapped the one he got from Bucky, looking a bit puzzled at the paper dragons inside the box.

“For decoration?”

“Read the spell at the bottom of the box.”

The big guy nodding at him, the Chudley Canons shirt Liv had gotten him already thrown on over his pullover and chewing on a chocolate frog.

Miles murmuring the spell with a hand on his wand, astonished when the paper dragons started to fly.

Spread their wings, circling through the room and starting to shimmer. On their second round they even started to spit fire, flames of red and blue and green. All the while a slight trail of glitter dusting down behind them.

“This is marvellous!”

Little Herman, who was squeaking excitedly and stretching his little paws towards the glitter seemed to agree.

“You know, when you have a bunch of little sisters you usually think that self-made gifts are lame, but yours are really something else big guy!”

Liv’s gaze too following the dragons, while Bucky blushed a deep shade of red at her praise.

The paper piling up around them, laughter about some gifts shared, as well as admiration. All of their parents had been thoughtful, sending them clothes and sweets and magical little things to make their life’s easier. Miles looked with a fond smile upon the new journals he’d gotten, Liv was lounging about in her sweater and Bucky was play-fighting with Herman.

Liv’s Niffler, after having gotten so much unused jewellery and a magical glitter-dispensing ball handmade by Buccaneer, in a “shiny-rush” again. Trying with all his might to get the big guys shiny metal arm, currently one finger stuffed into his belly-pouch and pulling for more. Bucky humoured him.

“Good year?”

Miles hearing his question, more tradition by now, echoed by two hearty “Yes”. Though the part followed, that was always the hardest: getting up again.

“I’m ready for breakfast.”

“You just ate like a hundred Bertie Botts Every-Flavoured Beans, Armstrong.”

She heaved herself up.

“Shut it Buccaneer, they were worth it. Yes, even the one tasting of dirt.”

All of them getting up after her, Bucky with a swish of his wand cleaning up the paper, careful to spare the kind glittering, which Herman immediately rolled into tiny balls.

Miles sending his gifts over to his room with a spell and with another having Bucky’s pack themselves up and the bag levitate beside him. All of them smoothing out their clothes a little, the hardest part of each year’s Christmas together still to come.

Liv crouched down by the bed, at eye-level with Herman.

“Ok my little terror, same procedure as every year: You can take two things with you to the table, not more!”

The little Niffler emptied his pouch after a strict look from Liv, looked at all the things he’d not yet put away at all either and plopped down on his fluffy backside, sighing.

“This could take a while…”

_“It won’t!”_

Another strict look and the little creature took a ring he’d just unpacked, probably the one Liv had talked about half an hour ago and the glitter-dispenser Bucky had crafted him. When Liv held out her hand he hopped up, sitting on her shoulder and cuddling up to her neck, not so subtly nestling around on her earrings.

“Think he’ll charm everybody out of their glittery things again?”

Buccaneer’s question too had tradition. As had Liv’s laughed answer.

“Please, I bet Dumbledore is already saving all that chocolate-galleon wrapping paper for him again.”

Miles laughed.

“I should’ve brought another bag.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those asking: I'm not dead, just very busy atm. Nothing is abandoned and I loved all of your kind words <3<3<3
> 
> Happy Holidays to all of you :D


	3. 7th year, Second half of Spring Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,
> 
> I tried something new with this one, I hope you like it!

First morning after the fight

"And what was so weird now Dad? You get up early _every_ morning."

Zosimos Miles was a man tall and lean and proud, sitting on the kitchen bench, petting the owl that just brought his daily prophet. It needed to be pet too, as her father’s booming voice had startled the little thing.

"The weird thing was that all three of the teen-drama-brigade were already awake too! Each sitting gloomily in a corner and making faces! _Separately_!"

She just had to sigh.

"Dad, they are _teens_. That is fairly normal. Maven, Tammy and Jessica drove you up the wall with this. Why shouldn't Javed and his friends too?"

"Siobhan! This is the second day in a row! Since the two arrived here they've all been fighting about something, save for the day of the Snallygaster-fiasco!"

The mean thing was that her father was _right_. The trio had been fighting all day long, safe for the times when they just went their separate ways. Moreover, during _these_ they radiated what she liked to call teen angst-energy. And Siobhan knew that this was weird, that they were usually a calm little group, except for when they all banded together for some mischief. At first had thought that maybe Olivier and William were not as ok with her son being a werewolf as it seemed, but after her questions during kitchen duty, catching the two alone each, she'd been sure that this wasn't it.

She had a slight hunch what all of this could be about, but was that really something to talk about with her father?

"And they make me totally crazy with this pesky teen angst-mood-magic! Water freezing over, Javed nearly melted my watch! In addition, even though Buccaneer does seem to have his magic under control slightly better, but it constantly smells like wet dog! Full moon is over!"

Mood-magic. For many years, in her youth too, people had thought that this was abnormal, that a teen wizard or witch should have learned until then to fully control their magic. All clearly underestimating the power of teenaged-emotions. The problem in more than ninety-nine percent of cases fizzled out on its own, but with seventeen it was as strong as it ever got. And with Javed, Olivier and William all being powerful wizards in their own rights...

Siobhan had studied the topic, had become the first scholar of teen mood-magic, and was the leading expert. She’d worked hard to aid a generation of kids with being taken seriously, to not be put down for a normal, physical and magical reaction to their environment and emotions. It had worked, the better the younger the parents were. Her father still a bit stuck though, albeit taking her words seriously, on the old mind-set of “grown-up and grown-out”: A teenage mage had to display no signs of involuntary magic.

"You know what Dad; I'll get a hold of Javed today and talk to him. Maybe I can help with whatever is going on between these three."

She loved her father to death. She really did. Nevertheless, the way he just ruffled up the newspaper, in tune with the little owl ruffling up its feathers in the face of extreme winds, rubbed her the wrong way. Maybe she needed to talk with him too. Zosimos still grumpy.

"Whatever _insignificant_ thing it is that has them so riled up, I'll be glad to see it gone!"

"You really sound like you need another coffee dad."

* * *

Day of the fight - evening

"What do you want?!"

Gosh, Liv could sting you with her tone of voice alone. Not that the way she looked at him was any less angry. Sat on a stone near the little pond and had, until he'd dared to approach her, let little stones jump on the water. The tracks the Snallygaster had left not completely vanished yet, though when he just thought about this night the adrenalin again pumping through his heart.

"Armstrong, I wanted to.... “

Buccaneer knew that he was only good for rubbing the back of his head during arguments. Could barely say that their initial fight, Miles confession that he'd been in a fight with his date at the Yule Ball because he'd been distracted by them, was hurting so bad. That the knowledge that Miles loved him, _them_ , did something to him, having freed emotions he'd supressed for a long while. Moreover, while he had been overwhelmed this morning, Liv had been angry. Or maybe hurt. And Miles had gotten angry then too.

It was almost a relive that her temper got the better of her, talking over him.

"Stop with this bullshit! I heard what you guys said! You two are simply assholes for being like this, for forcing me to choose!"

"Liv, I.... _we_ did not...."

She was close to screaming, bad enough so that Herman was poking his head out of the hood of her jacket and sniffing at her neck.

"You did! You two said that this would never work, that I would have to decide!"

Got up, stomped, seeming so large and yet two heads smaller _at least_.

"You made it pretty darn easy on yourself, just deciding to not talk about it with each other and then forcing everything onto me! But you know what, I won't let you do this, I will never pick one of you over the other! Fucking _never_!"

Stood there, heaving, pale and thin and angry and with eyes that looked decidedly wet. Herman clawing softly at her neck, her hair, purring sounds coming from him. With a start Buccaneer understood that the Niffler was comforting her, trying to calm her down. Wanted to do the same, his muscles refusing cooperation. Feeling frozen solid.

"Fuck you!"

And like that she left, stomped away, twigs and leaves crunching under her feet.

"Liv..."

Even _he_ thought that his voice sounded meek.

* * *

Second morning after the fight

"Slept well?"

"Mhhhgggnnn."

Siobhan had to laugh, pulled Olivier to her for a moment, giving her a half-hug. The girl was already dressed for the day, the leggings with the pizza-print surely from some muggle store, for some explicable reason looking good with the black Slytherin-hoodie she wore. Javed had the same, Buccaneer having gotten one with the Hufflepuff badger, the kids having had them printed at a muggle store and then bewitching them so that the animals moved. All in the span of two days, yet she knew that her son barely did his History of Magic homework.

Olivier's hair past her shoulders, a pale blonde, having still been short and pink when she'd arrived on the night of the full moon. It was fascinating how the Veela-genes she carried were working together with the last bouts of puberty, also affecting the mood-magic to a degree probably. Siobhan had already asked her if she could sometimes ask questions and use what she saw and heard in an anonymized way. With five kids and constant guests you had to have an edge as the leading expert on the topic of magical development in teens after all. And the kids, her own and their friends, were the perfect subjects to study.

"Still not a morning person?"

"Uhhnnnggg."

With a flick of her wand pouring the girl a clearly much needed cup of coffee, sugar and milk adding themselves to it. The cup flying right into Olivier's hand, who was getting comfy on the kitchen bench. With the one hand free, already sipping the way too hot beverage and probably burning her tongue, Olivier pulled the hood at the back of her neck in such a way that it rested on her shoulder. The bulge in it that was probably a still sleeping Niffler clear to see.

The kids had not fought yesterday afternoon, though she doubted that this had anything to say, as they'd not been talking either. All had just done something different, avoiding the other. It was harder to watch then the fighting she thought.

"Slept well?"

Olivier was a lot like her two eldest girls, growing more and more verbal depending on the coffee intake.

"Yeah."

"Farah did not disturb you with her sleep-talking?"

"A bit."

Two words, Siobhan was sure that the mug was almost empty.

"And, and you _know_ that I usually let you guys be, but what is going on with Javed, William and you? It's not like you all to fight so much."

A glowering look, the empty mug hitting the table with a thud. The girl had a temper, no doubt, but Siobhan had one too. That was the sole reason she could handle this huge family after all. Olivier not irritated though, rather chewing on her tongue for a moment before speaking.

"It's complicated. Like, _really_ complicated."

Another flick of her wand and Siobhan let some fresh coffee levitate into Olivier's cup, as well as sugar and milk. Got herself a cup too now, sitting down opposite of the girl. Had talked with her son, _knew_ what was up. At least to an extent.

"I've grown to be forty-eight years old Livvie, I've seen my fair share of complicated things. And it pains me to see you guys fight and be angry at each other. You are the best of friends!"

The coffee hot, yet Olivier taking sips like the beverage could not scald her tongue. It was probably too afraid to.

"You talked to Miles, right?"

She nodded.

"Yes, he seemed to suffer so much, I couldn't stop myself. I was so scared that it all maybe had to do with Javed being a werewolf, that you guys had changed your mind after sleeping on it. I have to say, I had a hunch what it could be about also, but..."

"What did he tell you?"

Olivier talking over her a bit, gaze inquiring. Had her knees drawn up to her chin though, was warming her hands on the mug. Siobhan caught herself taking a deep breath, thought for a moment before speaking. This girl was eighteen, a grown-up by muggle law, for more than a year already by wizard-law. Was strong and smart and steadfast. Though she could see that the girl was so unsure in truth, almost scared.

"Javed was honest with Buccaneer and you, that he loves you both. As more than just friends that is. And William said that he needed to think about that, that he'd never seen his feelings through this lens. That the big guy had never heard of loving more than one person. And you... “, Paused for a moment, looked at her. Olivier blushing violently, maybe not having expected her to pin down the facts with such precision. "Well, Javed said that you wanted a break to think and that they pinned you down with their questions. And said that he and William both told you that it's your pick then. From there it escalated."

The girl nodded, set an apparently empty-again mug down on the table, hugging her legs. Voice solemn, gaze downcast. Olivier was not one for letting emotions show, never had been. When she trained quidditch in the yard with the others and fell, broke a bone sometimes, she'd not cry. Nor when fighting with someone. Laughter too was hard to coax out. Siobhan feeling a pang of pride at Olivier's willingness to talk at all, to be so trusting. Merlin knew it had been a long road to get to there.

"I don't want to choose, you know, I want..."

A big owl was knocking on the window with its beak.

"Oh, that's Harold!"

Siobhan at the window quicker than Olivier though, not having to untangle her legs first. The owl flying in, a great grey ,who landed on the backrest of a chair and ruffled his feathers. Olivier, having finally gotten into a normal sitting position, scooted forwards in her seat and scratched the owl’s neck.

"Hey Harold, brought something from Mom and Dad?"

She watched as Olivier untied a letter from the owl’s leg, while it clacked its beak in an almost chatty kind of way.

"He's a talkative one, huh?"

"Harold's always keen on letting you know how bad the weather during the flight was."

Cold and windy, a bit rainy, Siobhan guessed, a real rain-front only closing in slowly when one believed the forecast. The muggle-forecast that was, which meant nobody believed in it. She guessed that Harold had missed the worst of the weather, really.

"Can he have some cookies?"

Olivier nodding while ripping open the heavy envelope, leaning back to read. Harold meanwhile given some owl-cookies, noises of content coming from him. Still, Siobhan could not help herself: The great grey owl made a face like he was constantly grumpy. Maybe that was an Armstrong-thing, like the curls.

Reached for her cup of coffee, hoping that it was finally cool enough to drink for a normal person. The contents of the mug frozen.

Siobhan had soon noted that Olivier's go-to magic when bottled up emotions coaxed it out was ice. The water had gotten cold while her father sat in the tub, the soup had frozen in the pot, and rain had turned to ice-shards. Especially now, with all the fighting going on. It infuriated her father, fascinated her husband and her, was hardly noticed by her other kids.

And worse than any cold coffee was Olivier, sitting there still, back ramrod straight and letter shaking in her hands. Tears freezing on her face.

"By Merlin! What happened dear?!"

Set down her cup, squeezed herself next to the girl and hugged her, pulled her close. She was so cold, shaking a little, utterly silent. The only thing moving Herman in Olivier's hood, having woken up and now working himself out of the cloth, with little noises pushing himself against his owner’s neck. Olivier probably unable to speak with how Siobhan squished her, yet not willing to let go. Heard the deep breath being taken, heard the sob, supressed but still there.

"Shhh dear, it'll be alright, whatever it is."

Olivier's silent crying slowly turned louder, was no bawling, no screaming and yet tore at her heartstrings. She was the _strong_ one, the unshakable one. The Daily Prophet had printed her fearless fight against the first tasks Basilisk in many moving pictures, showing the people reading the whole thing basically. Olivier was Hogwarts Tri-Wiz-Champion, was brave, strong.

And whatever stood in this letter the girl now handed her was seemingly enough to chase all that strength away.

"Do you want me to...? “

Felt the nod against her, felt how the girl moved to wipe her tears away, to catch the little Niffler still clawing at her neck with one hand, keeping him from falling in his eagerness to console her.

Siobhan looking at loopy handwriting, read a kind greeting to Olivier, though the tone made it very clear that the matter was serious. Few words, probably very carefully worded to throw off any interceptors, making it clear that something was on the verge of being made public, that a friend at the Daily Prophet had warned her father. That he was doing his utmost to keep the story from being printed. That she should prepare though, that they would get her the second she wanted to. That they loved her so much.

Olivier's gaze, now tearless, was almost as cold as the ice that Siobhan’s coffee was.

"You _know_ , right, even with it not being written out? My Mom told you."

There was no point in lying.

"Yes, Augustina told me. But only after I cornered her about it Livvie. You know that I study the effects of early and mood-related magic in children and teenagers and when that awful attack on you happened and you first displayed magic, when a few years later the news of an obscurus having developed in England spread... after meeting you, listening to my son's stories, I kind of figured it out by myself. Augustina just admitted it, because she feared that I would not let you kids be friends anymore."

It hurt a bit when the girl created distance between them, so clearly drawing into herself.

"You must think I'm a monster."

Blue eyes avoiding her gaze she did the only thing that was right: She pulled Olivier close to her again, girl _and_ Niffler yelping.

"You are _not_! Never! Don't even dare to think like that! What happened to you back then, what happened to Lady MacIntosh, was not your fault! And that this damned Obscurus manifested within you was out of your reach too! You were just a small child Livvie, an innocent child to which a horrible thing had happened. None of that makes you a monster!"

Siobhan could almost feel something give within her when Olivier turned lax, tension leaving her. She hugged the young woman tighter at that, who then hugged her back with a strength she'd not expected. Felt warmth spread within her, the realization dawning that Olivier's hugs were probably magical too, or imbued with Veela-magic, or just _that_ good. A small squeak, muffled, coming from a very squished Niffler.

Olivier moved back.

"Sorry Herman."

The black and furry creature lifted with two hands, a little kiss pressed to his fur. Herman was clearly consoled, pawing at Olivier's face with his tiny appendages, swiping at tears not frozen anymore. Herman sat down on the table, Olivier turned back to her, clearly feeling that she was about to speak.

"Who knows Livvie?"

The girl shrugged.

"My family, a few people from the ministry, as an Obscurus has to be reported. A few of the teachers and Dumbledore. The people that extracted it of course."

Nodded, though the problem was quiet glaring.

"Javed and William do not know?"

Had not finished her question when it hit her, realization like a kick in the gut. Loving was honesty, and this was a secret Olivier had probably never intended to share, talking herself down to being a monster. And she feared them knowing deeply.

"No, I ... I did not tell them."

"And you fear _them_ finding out, or everybody?"

A lip chewed, while the Niffler looked at her, feeling its owners worry apparently. The effect a bit toned down though, with the fork sticking from his pouch already.

"I don't care much about the others, I did not think that it would stay a secret forever, but... they'll be mad that I never told them. On top of everything else."

That wasn't like the boys, and Siobhan told her as much.

"Livvie, they would never. Never! Just make sure that you are the one to tell them, okay? They are, _whatever_ happens, your best friends. Let them hear it from you."

Leaned forwards, could not keep herself from kissing the girl on the forehead. Olivier belonged to her family, whether she wanted to or not.

The girl nodding, still looking shook, but not as much anymore. Managed a half-smile, took the stolen fork from her Niffler. And then she rummaged around in her pocket, Harold having falling asleep on the chair after having nibbled all his owl-cookies. He still managed to look grumpy while napping.

"Can I go and phone my Mom? I just... I want to talk to her for a bit."

Siobhan felt the warm kind of smile split her face.

"Of course, though put on a jacket and boots, its cold outside. And you'll have to walk pretty far to get the phone to work."

"I will. Can Herman stay here? My phone is in a glittery case and he always goes nuts when he sees it."

The Niffler, sitting on the table and after having the fork taken from him now subtly trying to steal a spoon, looked at his owner with slitted eyes.

"Of course, I can handle the little thief."

Took the spoon that was about to vanish, the Niffler now pouting in earnest. Olivier getting up after Siobhan made room for her to slip past, could hear how the girl put on jacket and heavy boots in the adjourning hallway. When she called Olivier pocked her head back in.

"Yes?"

"I don't mean to be rude, but can I put a trace on you? You'll need to walk pretty far to get away from the magically supressed signal and I want to be able to find you quickly, should another letter come."

Olivier was smart, very much so. Probably knew that she just wanted an easy way to find her, to make it possible to send the boys after her in an hour or two. Yet, she still nodded after a moment of consideration.

The pale-pink spell tying itself around Olivier's ankle, the girl gone with her smartphone in hand not a minute later, after telling Herman sternly to behave. The joys of pureblood-muggleborn mixed-kids Siobhan mused, conversing via letter and phone, Instagram and patronus. With a thief Niffler as a pet and the ability to order fake but glittery jewellery for it on the internet.

Taking the porcelain sugar-cup from Herman's tiny paws, she looked at the Niffler.

"Hey buddy, did you know that my father has a coin-collection?"

The creature’s eyes lit up.

* * *

 

Morning after the Werewolf-revelation – The fight

Oliver's laughter died down together with her smile.

"That's not a joke, right?"

Miles shook his head solemnly.

"No, it isn't. I really mean it when I say that I love you both."

" _Love_ love?"

With a silent raised eyebrow she seconded Buccaneer's question to Miles. Sitting on his bed he nodded, looking serious, hands clenching at his sides.

" _Love_ love."

"Holy shit."

Buccaneer swearing was rare, the blushing not so much. Atypical too, was the silence that befell them all.

Miles on the bed, nervous after his confession, Buccaneer on the bean bag, blushing and looking around without seeing anything. Her sitting on her feet in Miles desk chair, feeling shell-shocked, the whole scene surreal while the chair still spun very slowly.

It was a weird feeling to know that Miles was feeling the same way as her, no doubt. She'd not expected it, had thought that she'd probably one day get over her feelings, maybe would fall for another person. Or could just learn to life with it, happy with a friendship. After all Olivier had dated Isaac McDougal for that very reason for a while. He'd been so nice to her, somewhat eager without being over the top or clingy. It had been flattering. When he'd kissed her though, during a trip to Hogsmeade, she'd felt repulsed. Not that McDougal was disgusting, but Olivier had known then that they were better of as just friends.

The sounds of kernels shifting had both Miles and her gaze fix on Buccaneer.

"What do you think big guy?"

Tried not to sound as brusque as usual and felt that she failed miserably.

"I..." Buccaneer pausing, taking a deep breath, flushing an even deeper shade of red and yet forcing the words out. "I've never even thought about loving two people at once, really. I... never have I seen people in a relationship like that, you know? I think.... I think I need to think about it for a while, like... I feel flattered, you know Miles, don't get me wrong! But..."

"You're not into guys."

"I did not say that!"

Instantly she noticed how defensive Miles got, was getting more and more nervous with each second that passed. Recognized how brave he had to be, how long this confession had to torture him. Maybe even more than the secret that he was a werewolf. Or maybe he'd told himself that it could not shock them more than that particular revelation from the night before? Needed to get it of his chest, needed to.... but no, they'd asked him about the Yule Ball and the promised story in the first place. He'd _planned_ to tell them, whatever the outcome.

"So you're saying that you don't know if you like me too?"

"I did not say that either, I just said that I need some time! Miles, I..."

Miles was opening his mouth again, ready to talk over Buccaneer, when Olivier felt something inside of her snap.

"I want to go for a walk!"

Stood abruptly, Herman who'd been playing with something or other in the pouch of her hoodie yelping, clearly startled. Except for making sure that he did not fell out she paid it little mind.

Buccaneers voice stopped her.

"Olivier!"

He never called her by her first name. _Never_. And he rarely raised his voice either. Both at once was almost too much.

"I need a break boys, I ..."

"You have not yet said anything though!"

Miles was standing now too, as was Buccaneer. Felt nervous, not too much because of them, but overall. Miles loved them, not her, not Buccaneer, but _them_. Suddenly her wishes seemed almost eerily close to reality and it scared the living hell out of her. She was nervous, she wanted fresh air to clear her head, to just walk and try to think of nothing, to not think about how she's never told them the whole truth, how it could destroy every chance, how...

"What do _you_ think Liv?"

When Miles took on the soft tone, she could hardly fight against it, yet it was also tearing at her, the want to run just as strong.

"Miles I... I..."

"Olivier, be honest!"

The doorknob was melting in her hands, was almost feeling like rubber and she could not turn it, could not get out. Felt her fingers shake, felt a surge of _something_ go through her like a lightning bolt. Noticed how loud they'd gotten and could somehow only keep up with the volume.

"I don't know! I fucking don't know! I like you too, you are my friends, but I never had any reason to hope for something more, okay?!"

Took note that the snap from before hadn't been truly snapping, but that this was it. Could not help herself when the boys looked shocked, nor when Herman pocked his head out of the pouch, wide-eyed.

"William, you asked me to the Yule Ball like two days before it went down and Javed you never asked at all! I was some kind of last-ditch effort! Never did either of you breathe a word of anything to me, but now _I_ am to say something?!"

"Liv, I never asked because you... because Buccaneer...."

It only got worse, pulled them deeper. Olivier felt her heart constrict. She was pushing her anger, she knew that. Was getting unreasonable, emotional and baring all her fears at once.

"Neither of you ever breathed a word of anything when I went out with McDougal! I was met only by your fucking silence! When we went to Hogsmeade and I tried to steer us to a more private booth you sat down in the middle of the pub! When we stood under that thrice-damned mistletoe at the Yule Ball I had to _force_ you!"

Olivier only noticed the tears rolling down her cheeks when one reached her lips. Did not care though, could not care, the two, both looking ghastly now, making another step towards her. Tried the door once more, hating that Miles melted things when nervous, could see the ice-flowers on the windows that came from her, saw the goddamned tears in Buccaneers eyes.

Felt like sobbing and yet held back.

"Liv, if... if you would have to choose..."

Her first response was close to a roar.

"I'm not going to! I won't _ever_! You are an asshole Miles, that is what you are! First saying that you love us both and then wanting me to choose! I won't, it's as easy as that!"

Finally, her fumbling fingers found her wand, the door slamming open with a flick of it. Knew that they wanted to hold her back, talk more, but she just wanted to breathe. To take big gulps of air, to not speak, to just run and not think.

Was flying down the steps quickly, not caring for the faces of Miles family pocking out of several doors, nor for his grandfather standing in the hallway with a towel around the waist and ice-shards in his hair. Just ran out the door of the house, cool air hitting her face. Did not slow down for a long while, trees rushing past, a blur through the tears. Out of breath, out of power suddenly, she stood stock still, heaving.

Olivier did not know what she wanted, if it was Buccaneer or Miles. On the other hand, no, she _did_ know perfectly well: both. All or nothing. She wanted it all and knew that she could never settle for less. Should she have said it that way? Probably. However, she also knew that they’d never... or maybe she had not seen it? Had been too blind? When the Yule Ball had come around, she'd hoped for a chance, to maybe ask them both out, or neither. Had not been sure, not at all, McGonagall having told her so strictly that each champion had to bring a partner. Not partners.

Moreover, she'd chided herself to even think about a possible relationship, Miles had told her that he was gay after all. Was going out with Francois, a _boy_. And she'd been so sure that Buccaneer had only asker her for the ball because he'd not wanted her to be embarrassed by going alone, had heard him talk with others about it, only snippets, but enough of those. Had felt silly after kissing them under the mistletoe, glad for Miles wanting to dance. It had saved her the need to speak with them. Felt stupid for cherishing this moment so much.

If she... Herman's fur at her chin, his little clawed paws nicking the skin of her neck where he held onto her, purring. Supported him then with her hands, held him to her face. Wanting to say something, to thank her little friend, but only a sob escaped. Could not stop her tears, the feeling of her stomach being in knots and her heart in a fierce grip. Yet she very well started to feel the cold of the February air.

It took a while for her jacket to appear after her silent spell of accio.

Walked through the woods more, not knowing where she went exactly, nor caring. Mulling over her thoughts. The collar and shawl high around her neck, Herman having found a place in there somewhere, little paws pressing up against her cheeks. Walked and just breathed, not feeling lighter at all. Could not bring herself to care about her hurting feet, nor about the want for breakfast her stomach declared.

Only stopped, when the forest got lighter and the floor sloped downwards a little, the big lake near Miles home before her.

Maybe watching the water would help.

* * *

Midday two days after the fight

"Miles?"

A grunt the only answer he got.

"Can we talk?"

His own feelings had settled down, the rollercoaster of shame, anger and pain ending in just one need for him: resolve. Buccaneer needed to talk it out, could not stand one more day like this, all of them locked in silence or screaming. Watched with a heavy heart as Miles spun around to him on his chair, expression solemn.

"I guess. We have to."

"Yeah."

Silence. Buccaneer knew that he was an awkward one, especially when it came to thinks like that. This was no fight about a lost ruler after all, or who had not kept close enough an eye on Herman. This was serious, a big enough issue that it held his heart in a tight grip for too many days now.

At the same time their words broke free.

"I'm sorry that I sat you down like that, just overwhelming ..."

"It was stupid of me to stall and act like I ..."

The shared smile was lifting a weight from his shoulders.

"Miles, I was... I lied when I told you after your confession that I wasn't too sure. I mean... I _felt_ the same as you and, while not having heard about this kind of relationship before, you guys had taught me how to google something."

He almost felt his heart swell at the patience Miles radiated now, how the other listened to him and his worries. Waited to hear his reasons, instead of just going off as he'd done the first time Buccaneer had admitted to lying about his feelings.

"I... I was afraid to just jump in, you know? It sounded too good to be true and honestly, I have no idea how this would work in real life and...", the pause was a pregnant one, Buccaneer swallowing around a lump in his throat, "...I ... I'd not wanted to pressure Liv, or you, in any way. I'm so sorry."

Miles turning away for a second, taking a deep breath. Thought, deeply and visible, so unusual for his quick-witted friend.

"I accept your apology. I... you know, I was so elated telling you guys, you weren't bolting from the room immediately, that made me so happy. And when Liv then wanted a breather, when you wanted a bit of time.... I snapped. Maybe it was all a bit much, you guys finding out that I'm a werewolf, then the confession right on the next day..."

"But that was okay Miles, it really was. _And_ we both could've reacted better when Liv wanted a breather, really. However, we can apologize to her for that, work stuff out. She... the way she worded things, you know... I think she wants it too."

Miles had hugged him before. They had been friends for years now, it happened from time to time. After Quidditch-wins and good grades, after bad news too. This hug was a bit different though, tighter, more reassuring. Like Miles had waited for a long time to give it, so quick off his chair and before him. Buccaneer understood that he'd longed for this kind of hug too.

Breaking apart, their talk remained sombre.

"I'm scared of how bad I hurt her when we fought, not respecting her wishes. She was so mad, reasonably so, every try to talk to her she'd throttle before I got more than a few words out."

"It was the same for me, honestly. I tried to talk to her when she was outside yesterday, but she would just chew me out. The notion that she could just _chose_ , I think that hurt her the most."

Liv had taken her stuff and moved into the room of Miles sister, Farah, the only one of his sisters a few years younger than him. Skirted them, was outside a lot, quiet during lunch and dinner. When Miles whole family, as well as her and him were in the living room in the afternoons, Liv seated herself to the side, playing stack-the-galleon with Herman. The Niffler always won.

"We need to talk to her. These... almost three days of silence and fighting, this is too much for me. I won't last another day, you know big guy? Mom said that Liv is out since morning, wanted to phone her Mom, that... Mom did not say it outright, but I know something happened. The water in the shower froze."

When Olivier got emotional, things would freeze. It had always been like that, since their first year at Hogwarts. In their fourth year Professor Flitwick had taught them a class about involuntary and mood-related magic during puberty, explaining that it happened to everyone, was normal. And Buccaneer remembered himself foolishly asking the Professor why Olivier then was displaying these bouts of ice-magic since forever. A mumbled answer and a kick to the shin later, he’d let the matter drop.

Had laughed instead about the Veela-genes making themselves known that very same year, boys and girls doing weird stuff to impress her, from flying onto the field during Quidditch, to declaring their love for her during breakfast. Few things in the world were better than Liv eating her scrambled eggs and asking the person in question to go on, that this was the greatest morning-prep-talk ever.

His musing coming to an end, he looked up into Miles eyes.

“Did your Mom say where she went to? When she’s calling her own parents to maybe pick her up…”

Miles grunted.

“She’d just apparate then I think. Though you are right, we should go after her, get all this bullshit out of the world.”

“And tell her that we love her?”

A gulp, a bit of hesitance. And then Buccaneer saw a smile stretch Miles face, the warm kind.

“We should, yes. Maybe she won’t jinx us for it if we find the right words.

* * *

Second day after the fight - Resolve

She heard them coming.

Had walked to the lake again, the way by now familiar, the kelpie living in it swimming around on the surface, sunbathing. The wind had let up, the encroaching rain-clouds gone for the moment and while it was still pretty cold the sun had come out. Making the world look beautiful, glowing. The trace around her ankle was hard to see, outshined by the sun almost and in her heart, she felt a resemblance of peace.

Felt no need to run when the two pairs of boots walked through the soggy leaves, smacking on the muddy ground.

"Olivier?"

Miles called her Liv, Buccaneer Armstrong. At least they had. That both now went with her first name, not shortening or using her last name, felt right. She acknowledged them with a slight sound. Was sitting in the middle of the bench anyways, bundled up in a jacket, knees under her chin.

Talking to her Mother had done her a world of good. The fight with Miles and Buccaneer, her secret maybe being made public in the Daily Prophet. Her Mother did not have an answer to everything, but still managed to give her insights, possibilities to consider. Honesty one of them, love the other.

She was an all-or-nothing-girl, wanted both and nothing less.

“Sit down.”

Buccaneer on her left and Miles on her right she felt warmer in an instant. Wondered for a second about the unfamiliar jacket the latter wore, before noting that it had to belong to Miles father. That she’d taken his, fluffier than her own, looking much cooler too in her opinion. Studied their faces for a few moments, saw the tension, the fear.

And how open they were, how ready.

“You know that the Auror protecting me as a child was killed, right?”

History of Magic had always been one of her least favourite subjects. Boring, predictable and way too easy she usually took a nap, not caring much for the things Professor Bins taught. She’d heard it all before from her family, all history-nuts in their own right. Until year five that was, when one of her classmates had cut into a subject that she’d never wanted to be discussed in class. After that it had become _the_ least favourite subject.

“The Auror getting you to and from muggle-school, Leyla MacIntosh, was killed by a death eater in the entrance hall of the Ministry of Magic. The man was subdued, you survived uninjured. About a year later your father stepped down from his post as Minister of Magic.”

Miles was good in these things; Buccaneer and he both were. They’d found her when she’d bolted after class, had never said anything bad or mean about it all.

“You know why they could subdue him, right?”

Buccaneer gulped before speaking yet did not let his tongue form a knot in his mouth.

“You displayed magic for the first time, freezing the water in that huge fountain into a shield.”

Nodded, this was the usual story that had been spread, few knowing the truth. Too few.

“I froze him into place. He could not cast a spell anymore, because I froze the blood in his hands and arms. I only later noticed that Layla…”

Had to stop for a second there.

She’d loved going to the ministry as a child. After primary school she’d be picked up buy an Auror, usually Layla, to apparate to the ministry with her. Olivier would pass through the wand-control, the man she only ever had called Officer King, a newbie at the ministry at the time, asking for her wand. She would giggle, telling him that she was way too young to have one. Then he’d give her a chocolate wand, so she could have it screened by him. Would pass through, sit in her father’s office and do her homework, pet the unlawfully bred and seized pigmy puffs in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical creatures, or colour pictures, while her father spoke with his cabinet of ministers.

“She was dead and you two need to know that for a long time I… I thought it was my fault. The ice everywhere, she’d been so cold, did not move, I…”

“Olivier, you were only a child.”

The sob that forced its way out saw her squished by the two.

“There was nothing you could’ve done to prevent anything.”

There was no hesitation when they wormed their arms around her, nor when she started to speak again, ready for them to recoil in disgust.

“After this I did not want to be magic anymore. I tried to hold back, so that I couldn’t do magic on accident, nor did I visit Dad at the Ministry anymore. I just refused to be a witch. No side-by-side apparition, no floo powder, I even refused Fizzing Whizbees. Half a year later an Obscurus manifested inside of me.”

Forehead against her knees, eyes closed because she wanted to soften the blow of their leaving, she heard their gasps with a pang.

“Oh my gosh Olivier!”

“By Merlin’s saggy left…!”

Instead of arms winding around her, instead of being squished. Instead of being abandoned she was held more fiercely, more tightly than ever. A hand under her chin softly drew her gaze up, thumbs, whomever they belonged to, swiping at her tears.

Her heart so light that it flew up into her throat, pressing out even more tears, the pain of keeping this secret. Olivier sobbed with relief. Buccaneer’s voice warm, kind, though gruff all the same.

“I’m so glad that this thing did not get you, that they could separate it from you!”

Miles voice equally as kind, so close.

“Thank you for sharing this secret with us. I can’t even imagine how heavily it must’ve weighed on you.”

Kissed her forehead, just like that, pulling back and blushing violently. Seemed to wait for something, a gaping Buccaneer as well. Her voice not as wrecked with sobs anymore she spoke another truth, long overdue by now.

“I’ve not told you yet that I love you back, right? Both of you.”

Would’ve laughed at the faces they made, though held back, spoke more.

“It was stupid of me to just run without telling you, this whole situation wasn’t great, really. But I’d like to try this, all of us together. If you want that too.”

Buccaneer, suspiciously quiet and having been busy with violently blushing and gaping, now made a sound she never heard from him before: he started to sob.

He was not loud, or especially dramatic, but the sound was heart-wrenching none the less. As was the sight of tears running down his face, into the shadow of a budging beard. In less than a second Miles and she were practically on top of him, Liv not even thinking about hesitating when swiping at his tears, while Miles was asking what was wrong.

Buccaneer’s answer nothing but sweet in her opinion.

“I’m just so relieved! I love you two too, I just…”

Words swallowed by another sob of his, Olivier just leaned against him. Felt his arm wind around her shoulder, Miles half on her legs, half against her and half against the big guy too. Was floating on relieve, could understand Buccaneer so well, was so happy that the worst of their fight was over, that the truth had come out.

They did not think of her as a monster for having housed an Obscurus.

And not only without any explanation, but just like that, no proof needed. Just loved her, were worried for her and her wellbeing. How could she have ever thought that they’d hate her for it, condemn her for it? What did it matter that this secret was out now that the most important people in her life all knew about it? Whatever happened, she’d handle it!

Miles stirring a little, untangling his legs and then resting himself comfortably against them again.

“None of us have any idea _how_ this will work, right?”

She took note that he’d not said if. Smiled.

“We’ll figure it out along the way.”

“Liv is right. We are smart after all. At least sometimes.”

It was wonderful to just laugh together again, to be like _that_ , happy and honest. Silence over them almost like a spell afterwards, all nervousness gone in the face of just how good it felt to be together, to be close and warm and one. There were many things to say, but they all could wait. Their hands intertwining at some point, words returning.

All the while the Kelpie made its rounds.

* * *

First hours after the end of the fight – after nightfall

Herman was following the trace she’d put on Olivier masterfully, the pinkish glow easy enough to see in the dark. Once the Niffler had swiped the leafs off it that was, the girl having seemingly done a thousand twists and turns when going to phone her mother, or maybe had tried to bury the trace on purpose.

Siobhan wouldn’t put it past her.

Had sent the boys after Olivier when lunch was eaten, William and Javed having made up quite clearly. Seemed closer than ever, Siobhan aware of how her father looked at them with squinted eyes, probably trying to figure out what was different. Instead of indulging him, she’d explained the boys that they would just have to follow the trace around Olivier’s ankle. And off they’d been, Siobhan simply happy when they’d not been back screaming and fighting an hour later.

That they’d probably really talked it out, were _at least_ back to being friends again.

So instead of worrying, her father busier with a Niffler trying to steal his coin-collection than with catching on what Olivier, William and his grandson were more than just friends anyway, Siobhan had busied herself with the last-minute-preparations for the birthday party to come. Olivier had after all turned eighteen last week, a big deal when you had footing in the muggle-world. And as Javed hadn’t been able to come, full moon too close, her party at home had been small, spent with making her muggles driver’s license and eating a bit of cake with her siblings.

Siobhan had asked the girl about her birthday, had with well-hidden glee heard how it was a bit underwhelming, not all friends there and her family short on time too. Olivier did not know after all that the big party today had been planned for weeks.

And all the guests invited were there, food was made, the house full to the brim. Everybody had waited for the belated-birthday-child, for the big reveal. And instead everybody had started to get nervous after nightfall. She’d with a sigh decided to follow the trace then, a pretty nervous Niffler hot on her heels.

Herman rushing through the leaves a gift, however hesitant she’d been about taking the little guy.

“The one time you plan something, and the kids don’t show up when it’s time to eat!”

Spoke to herself, knowing that the border of their houses shielding would be reached soon, that she was getting closer to the lake. It was a zone made unfindable for muggles, a kelpie living in the lake that was not nearly as keen on a muggle-audience as the one at Loch Ness. As such, the ministry had made its habitat unreachable for muggles, the few exceptions, mostly TV-Adventurers, confounded and obliviated quickly.

As if stumbling thought the woods in the dark wasn’t enough, it started to rain.

“Oh Merlin, you’re kidding me!”

Pulled up the hood of her jacket, an already-soggy Niffler with lightning speed climbing up her body and under her hood. The wet creature pressed against her face did little to heighten her mood.

“You’re a little handful, aren’t you?”

Two tiny paws up in her face were a clear indicator that Herman perceived himself as at least double the work. Despite herself Siobhan had to laugh.

“Furry terror!”

Wet pelt pressed into herself, accompanied by a purr, made her smile.

The Niffler was a little charmer, as was his owner. And if everything had gone over well, she’d have both in her life much longer than school, Javed so in love with William and Olivier that Siobhan did not want to hope for anything else.

The lake shimmering when her spell of lumos ghosted over it, the trace better to see when wet, shining through now _very_ soggy leafs. And changing the angle of her wand, zooming in on the lone bench by the lake, she was quite glad to see a bundle of teens in jackets almost piled up. Were talking with each other, laughter reaching her through the rain hitting the floor. The Kelpie on the lake with another wand illuminated, jumping through the rain with clear joy. Before she could call out for the kids, Herman climbed down her body, running alongside the trace at an astonishing speed.

When reaching the trio too, her slight anger was gone. The Niffler, having climbed onto the bench they’d all just got up from, was cussing out his owner. Olivier listening to the barrage of sounds from the little creature, arms crossed in front of her chest.

“No, I did not say how long they’d be looking after you! Do you think I’d be gone for _days_?!”

More gurring and squeaking at that.

“You think I _abandoned_ you?! I was gone a few hours, you stay _alone_ longer than that!”

Siobhan threw an arm around her sons’ shoulder, pressing a kiss to his cheek and with a look, a nod and a smile learning everything she needed to know. Watched with a smile as William, the one with his wand holding a big umbrella-spell up, tried to stifle a giggle.

“Ok, I am _sorry_! Is that what you want?!”

The squeaking reached another pitch, Olivier sighed and uncrossed her arms, digging around in her pockets. With quick hands and the only thing heard a snapping sound, the Niffler was silent abruptly.

In front of his eyes dangling the case of Olivier’s mobile, the kind with liquid glitter in it, sloshing around.

“You can have it, because I’ve really been gone too long.”

Clearly appeased the little creature took the case, tipping it over in a constant rhythm, transfixed by the glitter. Her son was the first to speak up.

“Is something the matter Mom?”

She was calm again, though still narrowed her eyes.

“It’s past dinner-time. I was wondering where you guys were. You usually always come running when there’s food to be had.”

A triple-echo of sorry had her smile.

“It’s alright, but we should go back now. Everything alright again between you three?”

Maybe she _was_ a bit nosy.

Yet, it was cute how they all hemmed and hawed a little, though smiled and blushed. William the first to speak, his half-breathy “ _Yeah_.” coaxing a big smile out of her. She decided to pry no further.

“Well then, let’s go home, right?”

Took the lead, arms still around her sons’ shoulders, Olivier and William walking next to them. Herman riding on the girls’ head, fascinated with the glitter and after a quick spell from his owner dry and fluffy again. The caseless mobile with a built-in torch illuminating the way, all wands free to umbrella-charm them drily home.

And when boots and jackets were lost in the hallway, the kids noisy, talking amongst themselves, she had a chance to slip over to the guests in the living room. Smiled at questioning faces of other parents, elbowed her own husband into his side, and got ready to surprise someone else for once, and not be surprised.

When the door opened their scream was deafening.

“SURPRISE!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey people, this one does indeed have an overarching narrative, though it won’t be coming in a very chronological order. I rather want to try and backtrack and foreshadow and just play around with this one a bit. And as such I wanted to know what you would like to see next? How Miles became a werewolf? How Olivier lived through being infested by an Obscurus? How little Niffler Herman came to be? Or maybe just a chill week of vacation at the Buccaneer household? Something else entirely? Whatever it is, just drop me a line :D  
> Thanks for reading <3


	4. A mix of stories and years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little mix of different small things, too short for being their own chapter.
> 
> Have fun :)

Snitching & Niffling – Year 2

“Hooch is pissed.”

Buccaneer’s voice sounded pressed, dull, head almost completely under grand stand.

“In her defense, she did warn us to not let the snitch out in the dark.”

“That’s all nice and well Heather, but not helping us in any way.”

Buccaneer shuffling out underneath the stands, the only one small enough to even fit, even more muddy than before. All Quidditch-robes on the field today not showing any house-colors anymore, instead a deep and muddy brown.

Olivier sighed.

“Okay, how can we go about it then? Accio doesn’t work and none of us fits under there. Hooch even told me that the snitch is completely spell resistant, so I really don't think we can do much magic-wise.”

“Fucking helpful Armstrong!”

By Merlin, McDougal could be an asshole.

“I’m not the one who let it go in the first place, so shut your trap! Hooch said we must catch the snitch and put it back, or she’ll have to decide on consequences with the other teachers. Slytherin’s not going to _not_ win the cup this year because you idiot would rather be an ass to people than think about a solution!”

Buccaneer to her right snickering, McDougal thoroughly shut up, silence spreading over them all. More than twenty sopping wet Quidditch players of all four houses on the field, only the sound of the rain hitting seats and grass to be heard. And a soft clanking of coins.

She did not like the look on McMichael’s face.

“Do you think he could…?”

The question was tentative, careful and slow. Her pet-Niffler had started as and still somewhat was a sore subject on the Quidditch-pitch. Olivier had made the team earlier this school year, the position of seeker earned during the tryouts and Captain McMichael’s soon convinced by her that yes, letting a second-year student on the team wasn’t a horrible idea. And then there’d been the first training and her Herman going nuts over the snitch, almost destroying brooms and a Quaffle in his hunger to get it.

Olivier eyes flew up to her Niffler.

After the first disastrous training the Captain had given her his two knut’s, making it quite clear that she could be as good a player as she wanted, he’d not tolerate another training of his being disrupted by her pet again. As such, Herman had faced even stricter rules during practice, after having strongly resisted just being left in his nest. Was as such in the tightest bubble spell she could cast, with just enough space for him to move. The bubble sticking to the seat, Miles in record time having taught her how to do that.

He was pouting at her, the gaze from his black and beady eyes smoldering even from this far away. Was pouting, stacking a few coins he’d taken for entertainment. The umbrella spell was keeping his bubble dry, the fire-in-a-jar keeping him warm. If Olivier was honest with herself, she’d probably trade places.

“It’s dangerous. He goes _batshit_ for a snitch.”

“Would you let him try?”

She heard and saw McDougal take a deep breath, probably to spout more nonsense and assholery. With a glance she shut him up.

“We have to, I guess. Though I make no promises for either him catching the snitch _or_ giving it back to us!”

Quickly she climbed up the stands, got a hold of the Niffler-holding bubble, popping it and then looked at the pouty Herman with a fierce gaze, his considerable weight so familiar in her hands. Cast an umbrella spell when she saw his not very amused face after the first drop of rain hit his fluffy head.

“I want you to try and catch the snitch.”

He acted like he’d not heard her, playing with his coins more, but she could see the hairs around his ears flutter. Herman was listening alright.

“It escaped us and is in the space under the grand stand. We need it to play and you’re the only one that can help us.”

A sleazy look in her direction, a squeak and a gesture she understood all too well.

“No, you cannot keep the snitch then, it belongs to the school.”

She’d climbed back down to the teams in the meantime, Herman again pouty in her hands, not seeming cooperative at all. Buccaneer was gesturing at her to up the ante.

The Niffler turned to her when she sighed in a mock-defeated way.

“How about I ask Mom and Dad for my own snitch? And then you can have it?”

Squeaking and purring, though Herman did not seem convinced.

“Yes, I know that my birthday was already, and that Christmas is a long time away. I can still ask them though. Or use my pocket money.”

The teams were murmuring amongst each other, the sight of a stubborn and pouty Herman not too rare in the castle, or outside of it for that matter. She noted that Professor Hooch had joined them again, was speaking to McDougal and seemingly brought up to speed on the going-ons.

Her Niffler meanwhile squeaked some more.

“What’s the matter?”

Buccaneer had stepped closer, look questioning. Had caught her frown probably, because Herman had a point.

“He says it’s too far away time-wise and that the reward I offer is not good enough.”

Another squeak.

“ _Also_ , he’s mad because I wouldn’t let him go on the pitch, but now need his help.”

“Reasonable.”

An elbow to Buccaneers side made him yelp, ribs at the perfect height for her.

“Don’t encourage him! Do you or do you not want to be able to play?!”

Madam Hooch opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by a new sting of cooing.

“What did that mean?”

People had quickly stopped asking just _how_ she understood the little creature. They just accepted it as a fact.

“He cussed me out some more for not allowing him to roam freely during Quidditch practice. And he made an offer.”

“One you can’t refuse?”

With a disbelieving look she eyed Buccaneer, who was probably not aware that he was quoting famous movies. He’d never seen any after all.

“Something like that.”

And in quick succession the little Niffler was set down in front of the stands then, with a finger pointing to the location of the snitch. That followed by five minutes of rumbling and squeaking, before a now very wet and muddy Herman emerged from under the green and silver flap, looking triumphant. His pouch bulging out and whizzing, the snitch trying to escape again.

The little creature even handing the snitch over to Madam Hooch without a fuss, though right after looking expectantly at her, climbing up to her shoulder.

Being cuddled by a wet and muddy Niffler wasn’t as nice as she’d expected.

* * *

 

“He’s clearly having fun.”

Sunday-breakfast was always the best, all of them still a bit sluggish, tables mingling. They all took their time, more than one student coming in only half-dressed, with a bad case of bed-hair. Olivier had been up early though, had been woken by little Herman, insistently pawing at her face.

A shame, as he loved sleeping in even more than she did usually.

“I’m honestly just waiting for him to step on someone’s toast.”

Her Niffler had woken her up early, as he’d done every day the past week. Wanted to be there when the owls arrived, had sat on her head excitedly every morning since she’d let him pick stuff from a catalog McMichael’s had lend her. He’d earned it for his snitch-catching-abilities and the tough negotiations beforehand.

“I didn’t know a Niffler can jump this high!”

Miles and Buccaneer were sitting opposite of her, both looking much more awake than she felt. Had already been sitting at the table of the Hufflepuffs together, talking and laughing. She’d never understand how they could get up this early without being forced.

“He can do double the height when whatever he’s chasing has diamonds on it.”

“Does he fall for Swarovski?”

Olivier shook her head. Herman liked all shiny things, but he was still an expert when it came to details.

Was jumping once more, the snitch zipping around at a Niffler-friendly speed, yet still plenty fast. It had changed tables though, was now flying over the heads of Gryffindor’s and their friends sitting with them, Herman’s antics followed by plenty of laughter.

“He knows they are not real diamonds, but he’ll take them anyway. They are pretty shiny after all.”

Sipped once more on her hot cocoa, still happy that she’d not gotten sick after their long snitch-hunting stint outside last week. Half of each team had.

Watched a bit more as Herman was hopping over plates and cups, trying to catch the slow-flying snitch with his paws. He’d burrowed through the parcel Harold had brought this morning from her parents, the owl still sitting next to her and nibbling on some toast. Was moody, Merlin knew Harold always was, wet from the rain and half of his feathers pointing in the wrong direction.

Olivier had ordered stuff from the Quidditch-catalogue with her pocket money, Herman gleefully picking what he wanted within the bounds of what she could afford. Sending the stuff directly to Hogwarts was prohibited though, so she'd had it send to her parents, who in turn had repacked it and added some stuff, then getting it to her via Harold.

As such, she'd not only found the ordered children-snitch in the parcel, but also pictures and letters from her siblings, sweets and cookies, discarded jewelry for Herman as well as something she barely dared to unpack at the table with said Niffler so close.

“Is that what I think it is?”

Buccaneer had after her okay looked through the parcel too, or at the inevitably shared sweets rather. Coming across the box that had surprised her too.

“You parents send you a...”

Miles imitated a snitch by rapidly flapping his hands up at his shoulders and making a whizzing sound, forcing her and Buccaneer to laugh. Nodded in response though, surprised herself.

“I wouldn't say it's a new one though.”

The boys were moving the box around carefully, blocking the view from her rampaging Niffler with their bodies.

It was true, the see-through box the snitch was in new without a doubt, but the golden ball itself clearly a bit battered and beaten. But its wings were still in peak condition as far as she could see. Olivier wondered if it still worked properly.

“Do you want to take it out for a round of training?”

Shook her head.

“Herman would know that I got a real one, while he only got one for kids. I don't want him mad again.”

“We could distract him, he...”

Olivier would never know what Buccaneer wanted to try to distract her little terror, because Herman had just now jumped on the teachers table in the hunt for his snitch. Was running between plates and cups, even vaulting almost elegantly over Professor Dumbledore’s outstretched arm, missing his goal by a paw-length.

“Herman!”

She could already feel McGonagall’s glare.

* * *

Fleas – Year 4

“Why were you with Madam Pomfrey again?”

Miles had to admit that Liv had a sly way of asking things like this. Was sitting on an armchair in the common room, feet propped up and a book on her lap. Wasn't even looking at him, instead acting like she was reading still. Which he knew to be a lie, her eyes stuck on the same corner of the page for several minutes know.

At least she was asking _now_ , them the only ones in the room.

“I was feeling itchy. Probably because I borrowed the big guys shower gel.”

It was second nature to lie through his teeth, Miles had learned that by being a werewolf in Hogwarts. Liv though.... he knew that she was onto him, suspecting something. And that Buccaneer thought her crazy for it.

“He's using mine at the moment Miles. So, you're using mine too. And you never had a reaction from mine.”

React and distract was the one thing you could do.

“Why is he using your shower gel?”

“Because it helps with the pimples, as you very well know. So, don't skirt around it, why were you at the infirmary?”

Looked up from her book, finally, almost seeming worried. Which was ironic, really, because if anyone it was her that had her own bed in the hospital wing.

“I had fleas, okay? So please don't go around telling everybody.”

Olivier narrowed her eyes at him.

“From where the hell did you get fleas?!”

“Maybe someone's pet, or care of magical creatures, I don't know.”

Rolling around the forest floor as a werewolf rather, but he could hardly tell her that.

“Herman has no fleas!”

“I know that Armstrong, I wasn't blaming him.”

“Good!”

He looked at her, half hanging from the armchair. Miles really wanted to tell his friends, he was sure that he wouldn't hurt them even after turning. But what would they think, what would happen to their friendship? He just couldn't do it.

Olivier blinking once, slowly, before grinning.

“Think that you could have gotten the fleas from Eliza She was so keen on hugging you after the game, even though you aren't on the team.”

Miles shivered. Eliza was a nice girl, kind and fun, but _way_ too into him. And not aware of boundaries.

“She has a Kneazle, right?”

“A flea-ridden Kneazle, yes.”

He found himself grinning.

“Eejit!”

Liv’s book narrowly missed him.

“I know what that means, asshole!”

* * *

Transfiguration – Year 6

“To transfigure an inanimate object into a living creature is incredibly difficult and close to impossible without a profound understanding of the theory behind it. As such I expect you to apply yourselves, to work hard and _ask_ if something is not understood yet!”

The lessons from Professor McGonagall were now something else, had spiked in difficulty. Buccaneer knew that when choosing classes, he'd done the right thing by taking transfiguration, yet still felt some insecurities. His grades had been high, the best out of all his other grades. He'd managed an Outstanding at the N.E.W.T.S. last year.

And now he felt expectant gazes on him, his wand and the chair-to-be-a-duck in front of him.

“Can I borrow your book Armstrong?”

Her copy of “A Guide to advanced Transfiguration” in his lap not a second later, though it was followed closely by her questioning voice.

“You explained this shit to me during the weekend, what do you need the theory book for?”

“People _watch_. I don't like it.”

He pretended to read in the book, though of course wasn't the only one talking during the task. All over the classroom groups of two or three had found themselves, people attempting the spell, reading theory to each other or just gossiping. Olivier next to him was rearranging the chair in front of her, then slipping out of her robe, rolling the sleeves of her blouse up.

Her first try had a lone feather sprout on the back of the chair.

“Well, I've done worse before. Now you big guy!”

Was giving him a crocked smile, knowing full well that he got nervous when feeling like he had an audience. Now though, most seemed to be deterred by his faux study of theory, working on their own chairs. Flicked his wand a few times, practicing the movement. Not feeling ready.

“You know where Miles is?”

Olivier knew that he was stalling, that this was his way of getting used to the situation. Humoring him.

“Infirmary. The boys from his room said that he collapsed after getting up in the morning. They got him to the hospital wing when he woke up again, though as far as I know he'd protested that.”

There was no use in pretending to read now, or in practicing the move that already felt like second nature to him. Instead he looked at Olivier, who'd by now managed to have a second feather sprout from her chair.

“I'm getting worried about him; it feels like he's at the hospital wing every other month. I could understand that if he were on the Quidditch team, but like that?”

Olivier shot him an incredulous look.

“Buck, Miles is gone every month, right after the full moon and only ever for a day. Doesn't this ring a bell for you?!”

He sighed.

“Armstrong, this is bullshit and you know it. It's not that regular that he's gone, and...”

“Well Mr. Buccaneer, have you tried it yet? Or is there a question?”

Professor McGonagall simply had too good a nose when it came to being inattentive. He sputtered.

“No, I... the movement... I...”

“Professor, the second principle of formation, how do I have to apply it to this transfiguration? I feel like I'm doing it wrong.”

Buccaneer was aware that Olivier was just diverting further attention from him, taking the piercing gaze from McGonagall onto herself. And while their teacher answered her question, he deemed the time right to try it.

Visualized what he wanted the chair to turn into, which part would turn into what. Made himself aware of the differences between the hard wood and the living organism he wanted to create, his wand moving almost on its own. The spell in his head already, not needed to be said.

“Quack.”

Olivier's elbow connected painfully with his side.

“Asshole!”

She smiled though, widely, McGonagall too busy with inspecting the duck to deduct points from Olivier for swearing.

Buccaneer noticed his mistakes, that the duck was a mix between the male and female coloring, not having thought to include that. It was a bit uneven also, not perfectly proportional as it should be. He blushed and opened his mouth to apologize to the Professor.

“If you say sorry now, for transfiguring a living duck with minor mistakes on your first try, I'll _obliterate_ you big guy!”

McGonagall nodding at Olivier's words.

“For once I agree with Miss Armstrong Mr. Buccaneer. Outstanding, especially not even twenty minutes into practice. Reverse and repeat I'd say, you'll have mastered the spell in no time! And twenty points to Hufflepuff!”

Once more Olivier's elbow making contact with his side, though much gentler now. Her smile wide and genuine.

“Awesome big guy! Now explain to me how you did that, ok?”

When at the end of the lesson both of them had a quacking duck, even though Olivier's looked a bit wooden, he'd forgotten all about his shyness.

* * *

First days – Year 3

“Anybody got siblings coming in today?”

The feast at the beginning of each year was always loud, everybody eager to tell what happened during the summer break. The question a usual one too, shouted at each house table and people from every single one listening in when their friends said yes, mingling of houses and friends at the tables only forbidden on this one day. Made it easier for the first years to get to know their house.

“Armstrong, aren't your siblings due?”

Buccaneer never had qualms to shout at her through the great hall. Neither had she when it came to shout back.

“Yeah, Amue, Strongine and Alex.”

“Adopted?”

McMichael’s looked like he meant the question. Olivier could understand it somewhat, thinking about how it had to sound. Three siblings at once…

“No, triplets!”

McGonagall was out with the first years, would only come in in a few more minutes. Until then they could shout in peace, the other teachers up at the head-table so much more amiable when it came to the first day of the year and the shouting that went hand in hand with it.

“House predictions?”

Buccaneer was hard to see admits the masses, but even harder to overhear.

“Spread evenly I think!”

“No more Slytherins?”

It was unusual that Professor Grumman linked himself into a conversation, but alas, it was enough to have the whole table chuckle.

“I believe not Sir. My youngest sister maybe, though that’ll take a few more years.”

Miles was never a fan of the shouting. As such he just leaned closer to her, speaking normally, probably hoping that she’d tone down her volume too. Which she’d have done anyway, others now yelling about their siblings.

“How many more do you have?”

“You’re one to talk Miles, I still don’t know just how many sisters _you_ have.”

A grin at getting caught.

“Four, just like you.”

Olivier opened her mouth to speak, caught herself and grinned.

“Did you just clock my brother?!”

The double doors to the great hall thrown open, Professor McGonagall leading in the first years, tiny and looking around with eyes full of wonder. Quiet fell, in which she yelled while punching the arm of a grinning Miles.

“Asshole!”

“Armstrong!”

Her siblings waved excitedly at her.

* * *

Napping & Niffling – Year 7

“Why were we never allowed to see your Patronus?”

This was wonderful, the calm he felt, the relaxation, out of this world. Olivier had her head in his lap, laying on the blanket outstretched, Miles leaning into his other side, leafing through his notepad. Buccaneer almost drowning in the happiness he felt, as if his heart was close to bursting. Liv’s voice even, a bit sleepy. She had slipped in and out of her nap for an hour now. Herman on the sunny edge of the blanket, sleeping in full starfish-mode. They would have to pull him into the shade soon.

“Was switching between you two, the white puppy and the bear.”

That they were one, all three of them, was still mind-blowing to him. There had still been hesitance when they touched the first few days, but that had already fully vanished when in the train back to school. The holidays nearing, the second task of the tri-wiz behind Liv and the sun having come out. They were not the only ones sitting on a blanket underneath a tree near the lake.

They were those most looked at though, word having spread fast.

“But you haven’t known for sure about the puppy. Or that it was white at all!”

Miles had put his notebook down, was leaning into him more, having turned so he could look at Liv from above. She only smirked.

“My dear Miles, I’ve suspected it for _years_! I’ve practically known, the only thing holding me back was that guy!”

Jabbed her finger into his chin for a moment, grinning widely. It was too nice a day to feel offended.

“Yeah, that was pretty dumb. Though really, to each their own pace when it comes to revealing things.”

“So that’s why I only learned about you being a fuzzy bear when running from monsters in the woods?”

It came so easy to them to speak in a way that covered up some truths, keeping them from spilling secrets to interested ears. Buccaneer now looking at Miles, the grin on Liv’s face even wider than before.

“I wasn’t feeling too confident about it, ok?”

Laughter shared, their half-embraces and resting heads holding. Until Miles picked up where Olivier had seemingly gotten them off-track.

“Back to your Patronus though!”

She groaned.

“It was a weird mix, ok? Looked scary actually. And as I thought about it, you know, I didn’t want to show it.”

Leaned down, half-squashing her with his chest, yet managing to press a short kiss to her lips. Ignoring her squeal of being squished. Miles doing the same not a second later, though without trying to crush her.

“And now?”

Another grin now, a big one. Olivier sitting up slowly, Buccaneer lending a helping hand. Before searching for her wand though, she pulled her sunbathing pet-Niffler closer with her food. He let loose a small whine.

“Herman, you’ll get a sunstroke! So sleep some more here, in the shade.”

The Niffler sitting up too though, while Liv pulled out her wand. Rubbed his black and beady eyes with his paws, then yawning right after. Olivier concentrating for a short moment, before silently casting the Patronus.

A second Niffler on the blanket rather suddenly, sniffing about and glittering silvery. Herman seemed shocked. With a slight wave of Liv’s wand, the Patronus disappeared.

“It’s a Niffler now?!”

She grinned at him, leaning against his free side.

“A little Herman!”

Miles put his feelings into words perfectly.

“We’ve been beaten by a Niffler Bucky!”

Said Nifflee seemed very flattered though.


	5. Before School: Olivier and how the Niffler came to be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proudly I can say that I beat my editing-block^^

"What leads you to this assumption Philip? An Obscurus in England... I haven't heard of one in at least fifty years I think."

Especially in his younger years the inclination to not talk much, to recluse and observe, had been used to ridicule him. People had not thought that he noticed things, read moods. Mistook his not answering to them as a form of ignorance. Soon he’d understood that it did not matter what everybody else thought.

Philip Gargantos Armstrong walking next to him, a man in his forties, rather short and yet lean, was not nervous. Instead the man’s step was brusque, far-reaching, full of an energy fueled by the one thing he’d seen much too often in muggles and wizards alike: fear.

“The marks Newt, the marks. She went out to play in the forest by herself, we always let her when she beforehand said where she was going. As you know the unicorn population is big, more dangerous creatures scared away by that. And when she returned the last time…”, it was a trademark of the Armstrong family, the hauntingly blue eyes,” like a blackness was running through her veins. It looked so eerily like the marks described in the books.”

The hallway was beautifully decorated, the house big, a mansion almost, though it felt alive, lived in. Yet with each step Newt could feel the dread that was also creeping through these hallways, the fear lingering in every corner.

“You surely know Philip that an Obscurial usually only manifests when magic is repressed, _prohibited_ …”

 _How many people had before calling me told him that his assumptions could be wrong?_ \- Newt Scamander just had to ask himself. Not mad when he was talked over but feeling the urgency more.

“She represses it herself! You heard about the attack at the ministry I’m sure?”

Nodded in agreement. Everybody had.

“Your oldest displayed magic there, wasn’t it so?”

“Ice-magic, yes. The Experts from the Department of Mysteries spoke of a degree extremely powerful, that Liv could be the counterpart to this generation’s fire-user.”

This was news to him.

“A fire-user has been found? The ability to control fiend-fire has shown itself _that_ early?”

There were laws in the magical world, plenty of them. Some made by wizards and witches, most by the magic itself. That there were mages gifted with strong elemental magic was one of the magic-made laws, that there only ever seemed to be one at a time. Ice often manifested soon, was accidental almost in its nature, children after all in frequent contact with water.

Fire though, especially the ability to control fiend-fire without much effort, with little more than a thought… it was an ability not often seen in a very young child, was earliest found in kids attending school…

“I cannot drop names, but a rather dramatic incident led to the powers revealing themselves. The young boy is well taken care of though, his magic usage age-appropriate from what I heard. My daughters though, is not.”

“What does she do to repress her magic? In a magical household like yours, with so much positivity surrounding the topic I would’ve thought that this would not be her response to such a traumatic event.”

They both came to a halt, the door they stood in front of closed, white wood with richly decorated corners. And enough scratches and bumps to make sure that everyone knew about the group of playing kids usually opening and closing it.

The Auror standing at the door silent, Philip showing no hesitance and speaking on in front of the man.

“She refuses to use floo powder, nor can we apparate side-by-side with her anymore. She will not look when either her mother or I use our wands. Her broom is settling dust too, as well as any kind of play that revolves around being magic in any way. And, though this is of course hard to say from the outside, she has not yet shown any sign of magic again. No accidental magic, nothing.”

Which indeed was highly concerning. Once magic broke free for the first time it was hard to reign in again.

“Do you have any idea what exactly could’ve caused this? Traumatic events often have unexpected consequences, but I do not see the connection to…”

“Hermann, if you would be so kind?”

The Auror at the door, maybe in his late twenties, tall and lean, fair haired, spoke. His voice heavy, words picked carefully.

“Olivier started school again in the village not far away two months after the incident, per her own wishes. As she refuses the magic around her, I walk the way with her, usually taking the hunting dogs of Minister Armstrong. Not one of them a Crup I might mention. She leads them, talking to the animals rather freely, while mostly ignoring me. She told them the day before yesterday, on the way back, that they would never have to be afraid of her. That she’d never do magic again and could not hurt them.”

Rarely Newt had seen his friend as distraught as then, when Philip Armstrong spoke with pain in his voice.

“I did not think that she would blame herself for Miss MacIntosh’s death. In hindsight I see why she thought that it could’ve been her fault, but still…”

The air somber, he did not want to hurt the man before him further yet knew that there was no way around it.

“An Obscurus is a violent creature, usually attacking what was the reason for its creation in the first place. The reason for their want to suppress their magic. So, if Olivier is truly housing an Obscurus within her body…”

“It turns against her during outbursts?”

A nod, Philip turning paler before him, the Auror Hermann hardly able to keep up the facade that was his neutral face.

“I’ll need to look at the marks you mentioned, but yes. I will also need to see the places in the forest she usually goes to. If the Obscurus forces her into outbursts, there it could happen. Especially if you’ve not yet noticed signs of it anywhere else.”

“Is there anything else we can do?”

Newt was not the type to smile just to calm people down, not when the situation didn’t call for it. Yet he still wanted to make it clear to his old friend that he was hopeful enough. If Olivier Mira Armstrong housed an Obscurus, there were ways to extract it. It wasn’t cursing through her for too long, nor too violently yet it seemed.

There was more than just a bit of hope and he wanted to make sure that Philip knew that.

“Plenty.”

* * *

“Your turn!”

The boy and the girls scattered when the smallest of the girls ran to them, hand outstretched and a smile on her face.

Basically, she flew over twigs and stones and the short grass in the yard, quickly reached first her younger brother, then the older of her younger sisters. Only Strongine, the most middle child in the family, the third of five and the second of the triplets, managed to escape her for longer than a minute.

The wild goose-chase bringing a smile to his face, carefree children always having had an energy most wonderful about them. The girl he was called for, Olivier, laughing, yelping and smiling with utmost glee while trying to catch her sister.

She was a tough nut to crack too.

When he’d went to examine the marks on her face, Newt could practically watch the black streaks drain from her face, skin rosy as a child’s should be. It was a sign pointing towards an Obscurial, sentient as they were inside their host, fully capable to grasp what and who was a danger to their existence. She’d behaved normal towards him, polite, though with one exception: When he’d invited her inside his suitcase, magical creatures always tempting to magical children, she staunchly refused.

No talk of Niffler-babies, of seeing an Okami, or a Demiguise, could sway her.

“She used to play with the Jarvey.”

Augustina Armstrong was holding the youngest child of the family, Catherine Elle, the baby girl not even two months old yet. Was reserved, plenty to do with the newborn, the children, the household and the worry about her oldest. She had seen to it that rooms were ready for his stay, that he had plenty of time and help to care for the creatures in his care.

Was not too fond of him also, at least the way she behaved towards him pointed at that.

“And the unicorns would let themselves be fed by her every morning. Even the Thestrals, since her grandfather passed she can see them, let themselves be touched by her.”

Eyes on Olivier Augustina spoke, a woman tall and proud, known as a model to the muggles. Her marriage to Philip, the Veela-heritage and her temper almost making her an outrage in the magical world.

“You were her hero. She read your book from front to back and if she was done, she’d read it anew. Now the Jarvey seemingly is hurt, the unicorns keep their distance. The Thestrals have become wary. And Olivier doesn’t go near them anymore too.”

Augustina Armstrong could not hide her own hurt, her fear, as well as her husband could. Not here, with her children in her arms and in the garden, where he could see how endangered their peaceful life was. He spoke evenly, trying to look into eyes blue-greenish. A sprinkle of colour in the usual Armstrong-blue.

“Olivier is very smart for her age, very decisive. And she is a polite, fun-loving and kind child. Whatever is plaguing her, if it truly is what we speculate, or something else entirely, I will…”

He could not tell this distraught mother that he would do everything in his power to help her child.

The plentiful laughter one voice short when Olivier’s hand for a second had the back of Strongine’s shirt, only for the younger girl to propel forwards with a popping noise, still running and laughing, barely having noticed the accidental magic.

Olivier though, had.

Stopped dead in her tracks, smile, laughter _and_ momentum gone. Her siblings playing on undeterred for a few more moments, before Strongine noticed that her sister was not chasing her anymore. Olivier’s brother the first to react.

“Ollie, are you okay?”

Instead of answering her brother she turned towards them, her mother and him. Now he could too see her veins and arteries turn dark again, skin seeming even paler, almost ghastly. In contrast to that the girl’s voice was firm.

“I want to play in the forest for a while Mom, can I?”

Unusually formal for any child, the wide eyes of Augustina only underlying how unusually formal it was for this child too. Olivier waiting, though not patiently, fingers twitching. Her mother gathering her wits and speaking, albeit shakily.

“Liv, I would rather you stay here and…”

It wasn’t as much of a process as rather a jolt going through the girl, the smile fake and the tremors in her hand spreading through her whole body.

“Thank you, Mom!”

Off she was, with a quick step running through the underbrush and almost vanishing from sight after ten seconds.

Augustina clearly wanted to go after her, not so much angry as simply scared, yet was bound by the baby in her arms. The gaze in his direction helpless, Alex, Amue and Strongine balling around their mother in confusion. Coming to a conclusion, to a decision, he sent out his Patronus with a message.

It was a testament to the urgency of the situation that Philip Gargantos Armstrong, Minister of Magic, was at home from the ministry after having fled a meeting in less than five minutes.

* * *

The gap of the suitcase had been enough.

One latch not closed properly he’d wiggled through, tiles under his feet. The reshaped stone was white, bad for him, hard to vanish on. As such he scurried forward quickly, into grass that could’ve been taller in his opinion.

Following the glint of sunlight on something shiny he’d ran into the woods, moving as quickly as possible and glad for the cover that would buy him more time to find good treasures. Then he could show his siblings, his mother, what a talented Niffler he was. The underbrush searched carefully by him, little able to deter him from his goals. When it felt like he’d burrowed through half of the forest, it happened.

Another glint catching his eye, he moved to a clearing in front of him.

On top of leafs lay a hair-clip muggle-children used, silvery and with a flower made out of shiny blue stones on top. He loved it, took it in his paws and rubbed his fur over the stones, a squeak of content coming from him when they shone brighter. Stuffing it into his pouch, a sudden noise had him cower.

Ahead of him sat a human child. Head on her knees, body twitching and from time to time tiny noises coming from it. Like when he or his siblings wanted the warmth of his mother, or food, or a little nose-kiss.

Human children were not dangerous, but it was easy to steal from them he’d been taught. Moved closer, trying to see if she had more shiny stuff, scurrying over to what he presumed was a girl. Not prepared for her eyes falling on him.

They were as blue as the stones on the hair-clip, but much more shiny. He could not help his paws moving towards her, eager to find more shiny stuff, to see if she maybe had some. Human language was hard to understand.

“Go away!”

Whatever that meant, he inched closer.

The sniffle that followed his movements must’ve come from her nose, way too small to be any good at treasure tracking, sounding almost indignant. Her eyes not leaving him he shivered, though not feeling cold at all.

When he was a Niffler-length away from her feet, she made noises again.

“I said leave me alone!”

Another sniffle and, albeit still not having understood a thing, he was sure that she needed a nose-kiss, or maybe a bite of food. Or something shiny! He had something shiny, maybe if he showed it to her? Not that her sniffling made her parents come here, big muggles who’d probably tell his big human where he was…

Climbed her leg swiftly, felt how rigid she was, how tense. This up-close saw her face, the humans he’d seen usually very pinkish, though on her face were black streaks everywhere, like something scratched her. And while he felt that she did not want him that close, she made no move to shove him away. Instead he could hear that her hands crunched up some of the eternally-there leaves from the forest floor.

Digging in his pouch, he showed her the hair-clip.

Now she looked as pinkish as a normal human again, eyes wide. Though he still did not understand the noises she made.

“I didn’t even know that I lost it. Thank you.”

He let the clip open and close for a few times, to have it glint and show what a good treasure it was, while sitting on her knee. Yet clearly unimpressed the human just babbled on.

“You must be a little Niffler. But I shouldn’t….”

He’d not expected her hand to come up and give him a slight shove, barely enough to have him slide down her leg.

It was kind of fun.

“When anything magical comes near me I…I…”

Climbed back up, caring little for her words, but feeling that there was something going on, that there was something that seemed to be hurting her. Sitting down more firmly on her knee he squeaked.

Having fun while sliding down her leg the worst that could happen anyway.

The girl put her arms around her legs again, chin on the knee that was not occupied by him. Still squeaking on.

“Really, you should go, whenever something magical is near me, I…”

The human girl’s hair was a very bright blonde and very shiny too. The clip in it would probably shine very nicely. And when he found that it did, the bright blonde looking good with the blue in it, the girl had shut up too.

For good measure he gave her a nose-kiss.

“Oh gosh Livvie, there you are!”

A big human lumbering over to them, the little human girl tensing again, though he found that there were hands around him not a second later, holding him gently and safe.

When he was brought closer to skin again, the girl clearly having been lifted, he got a chance to snuggle into her shirt.

Maybe she would not tell on him having escaped.

And maybe she had more shiny stuff like that hairclip.

* * *

“It is more serious than I would’ve thought initially.”

Olivier did not dare peek through the slightly ajar door, her mother had too keen an eye for that. Instead she squatted close to it in the dark hallway, her pajama’s keeping her warm and the knowledge in the back of her head that she just could sneak back into her bed swiftly if someone neared the door.

A feeling of giddiness still coursed through her whenever Mr. Scamander said something.

“The circle of tree’s she destroyed today was more than a hundred feet in diameter, the two others I saw on the walk through the woods only marginally smaller. This is a measure of destruction that by far surpasses the power the Obscurial could usually have gained at this point in time. We need to do something, and quick.”

The worst was that her Mom cried. She’d not let it on when her Dad had carried her back from the forest, but Olivier had seen how red her eyes and nose were. But after tucking her in, she’d tried to keep her mouth shut in fear of them finding the Niffler, she’d overheard that they “needed to talk”. After half an hour she’d dared to sneak out.

“So, you are sure it is an Obscurus?”

The sharp intake of breath of her father, the quick answer from her mother, suggested that Mr. Scamander must’ve nodded, or agreed in another way.

“Why the long observation then!? For three days you’re here now, I would’ve thought that you would’ve been sure before that! What changed?!”

It was rare that her mother lost her temper like this.

“The destruction, the immediate reaction to magic. The way Olivier handled it. She is, albeit trying to deny and avoid it, constantly surrounded by all kinds of magic. And she is aware of that too. Yet when Strongine so suddenly displayed accidental magic, though radically different an experience compared to hers, the Obscurial and her fears were triggered.”

“So, it’s not much about magic at all? Or only magic in the context of _her_?!”

This was thunder, this was her mother at a covering-your-siblings-and-yourself-in-mud-completely-and-role-on-the-carpet level of angry. Olivier felt bad for Mr. Scamander, her mother’s anger a rare but strong thing to face, all because she’d been stupid, could not reign in this thing, was…

Mr. Scamander took a deep breath before speaking in a calm voice.

“When first exposed to her own magic, Olivier was faced with the most dire consequences. And, albeit a very smart and perceptive little girl, she did what all children that age do: She faulted herself for what happened. Saw only the connection between her being magic and what happened afterwards. And this is what happens now too: She fears that exposure to and her subsequent own magic will make her hurt people she loves. And she’s taking measures to prevent that.”

Silence from her parents, nothing. It was either a storm or tears that would be next from them. Mr. Scamander speaking like he was going to brave either of that.

“An Obscurus takes hold of their host once manifested, Olivier’s repressing of magic having been the perfect soil for the creature. And now that it has been in her for a while, feeding on her power, it has become stronger. Extremely powerful even, especially given the rather short time. It has to do with the power of Olivier, but you need to understand that it’s not necessarily your daughter holding back anymore, she’s not in charge of the Obscurus.”

“What needs to be done?”

A shiver ran through her when she heard the tears in her father’s voice. He’d sounded like that when the Auror’s had brought her to him when… on _that_ day. He’d held her, never had she been held so tight, and he’d cried. The thought alone had her press her eyes shut fiercely, had her shiver more, had her remember…

It tickled when the baby Niffler moved out of her pajama’s neck, sniffing her chin.

“We need to try and extract the Obscurus soon, very soon, though there is a much bigger chance of success if I can get help. The creature is powerful, especially given the fact that it tries to turn against her at every outbreak. If you would allow it, I’d like to call in aide, hand-picked people.”

It was like a trumpet when her father blew his nose.

“Whatever needs to be done I’d say; do you agree Tina?”

“ _Anything_.”

There was silence for many moments, until she heard her father again, much calmer.

“How does working out the details over a Brandy sound? I’ll go and get the glasses.”

And as she heard her father’s steps on the hardwood floor, she quickly got up and tiptoed towards her room. Lay down, the Niffler snuggling up against her and as of yet not once having been willing to move anywhere but her, persistently wanting to stay close.

She feigned sleep when her mother peeked into her room some time later, but it took hours until Olivier found some rest.

* * *

“She will be weak afterwards, what the muggles would call sickly. Not forever, but for a few months. Like when one gets better after a very bad flu. Her magical development will halt for a while too, in some cases it was needed that children started their schooling a year later. But all that will be seen in the time after the procedure.”

Newt Scamander wasn’t a bad man, not at all. Was polite and kind, thoughtful, if a bit unconventional. This did not bother her, not anymore after the honesty shared the night before, the plans made to safe her little girl from this thing.

“And I hope that she will work with us this afternoon. An Obscurus feeds on its host and will be much easier to take care of if she wants it gone too.”

Her oldest, her Olivier, was a smart little girl, very kind and warm and, while talking a lot when excited, rather quiet otherwise. Not drawn into herself, but not one for nonsense. Augustina understood now why the Obscurus had taken a hold in her daughter, understood that there was little they could’ve done to safe their daughter from this fate. Still, she vowed to herself to be even more alert to any of her moods.

Took a sip of tea, rocking the roll-around-crib with a steady foot.

“I think that she will be willing to comply, the fear that she could hurt anybody… it was what drove her from magic in the first place and now will be what helps us get rid of that creature.”

The kitchen was big, yet one of her favorite places in the house. Homey to an extent, the table small and well-worn, just big enough to house her family and their guest. Tiles always warm, smells always making your mouth water, even if there was currently no-one except for Mr. Scamander in the house that didn’t belong to the family.

“You do not think that she will recoil at the notion of us wanting to do magic on her? Up until now it was clearly what triggered the Obscurial’s attacks.”

Shook her head, the tension in her body broken by an ease also. It was hard to explain how the fear and worry inside of her stood opposite of her knowledge that everything would be alright, that her little Liv had understood from eavesdropping yesterday that she could be a normal little girl again soon, with no worries in the world.

“Livvie wants the thing gone. She wants to play with her siblings, us, her friends, without worrying every single second. Wants a pet too, wanted one since her last birthday. We said she could choose one on the big trip after Cathy was born.”

“She of course did not want to come, refusing floo powder?”

Augustina nodded.

“Side-by-side apparition too. It was the first big red flag for us. Philip has many younger siblings and they’d always made a trip to Diagon Alley after the new baby was born and the whole family had grooved into it all. The older kids could pick a toy for them and for their new sibling, which he said always helped with not feeling left out or overlooked, what quickly happens with a newborn in the house.”

Olivier had first only shaken her head, later screamed and cried that she did not want to go. When Catherina had started to bawl because of the commotion Liv had run towards the woods. Philip and she had later tried again, asked her alone, but she’d staunchly refused.

Not even the notion of the long-wanted pet had been enough to sway her.

“We carried on this tradition, Liv back then having been ecstatic to choose toys for her siblings and rather then be mad at how little time we had for her, triplets are demanding after all, she’d tried to help.”

Mr. Scamander listened with intent, with a slight smile. Spoke with a warm voice.

“Has she ever said what kind of pet she wants?”

It felt surreal to chuckle and yet Augustina had to.

“She wants them all. From an Owl to a Rat, but also a Crup of course, a Fwooper or a Kneazle. She can’t decide, really.”

“Not a Nundu, or a Chimera?”

She almost glared at the man over her cup.

“Shh! We talked her out of those, but only barely.”

“Olivier never considered a Niffler?”

It had been a very cute scene this morning when she’d peeked into Olivier’s room to see if her girl was finally truly sleeping. Which was indeed the case, Liv sprawled on the bed like a kicking starfish, sleeping open-mouthed and incredibly cutely. A bit unexpected had been the Niffler, black and mostly fluff, laying on top of her daughter like a another little starfish.

Mr. Scamander had not seemed mad, rather relieved that the missing Niffler-baby had been found.

“I once got a long-winded speech about Niffler’s, and how she’s read that they are not always willing to live like a pet and that she would not want to force one to be what it doesn’t like to be.”

Her daughter was thoughtful, loved all creatures deeply. It had been a shock, even in the current situation, that she’d refused to take a look inside Mr. Scamander’s suitcase.

“She’s really something else, smart, though I think I said that before. What do you think, will she bring the little guy back, or should I ask her about it? I am quite sure that he escaped yesterday evening, maybe followed her into the woods. The hair-clip she wears seems Niffler-worthy to me.”

A chuckle, a babble from the half-asleep Catherine in her crib.

“Oh, Olivier will not keep him secret for long, I think. And in all honesty, I am quite happy that she’s so willing to keep the Niffler close, that she is willing to express her love for magical creatures again, even if only in secret. Yet, isn’t this a very small Niffler? I remember them being bigger back from school.”

“Oh yes, it is still a baby. Its mother was worried in the suitcase, though I was able to calm her down somewhat. Baby-Nifflers are keen on proving to their family what good treasure hunters they are, making small excursions quite often.

Catherine calm again after a look at her, eyes slowly falling shut. Augustina had to smile once more at the mental-image of Olivier and the Niffler-baby sleeping in calm unison.

“Shall I ask her about the Niffler? It needs to go back after all, it…”

Before she could speak on the door to the kitchen swung open slowly. Olivier’s blues peeking around the corner, half-hidden by blonde frizzy hair. She quite clearly had just come out of bed.

“Mom?”

Just by the way Olivier said this one-word Augustina could tell that her daughter was brimming with guilt, was just a hair away from crying. She made sure to sound extra-warm.

“Yes Livvie?”

Her daughters’ eyes fell on Mr. Scamander, skin flushing. Her ears a bright red, a surefire sign that something was the matter. Something Olivier felt was her fault.

There were a few moments of hesitation, though Mr. Scamander was smiling too, kindly. And then, with a slight jolt, Olivier walked over to them, the Niffler-baby in her open palms. It was fidgety, looked sad and was squeaking seemingly unconsolably.

“It wants its Mom!”

Tears on her cheeks after this statement, though she spoke on hurriedly.

“I’m so sorry that I did not tell you sooner, but after… after yesterday the Niffler came to me and… and I hid him, because I’d feared that you’d be angry that I did not tell you immediately! And he was so cuddly and so fun and I… I… I’ve not known that it was a baby, I’m so sorry.”

Looked to the tiles, tears big and round, the Niffler now trying to console her, while squeaking out his own unhappiness too. Augustina was not going to watch that.

“Come here!”

Just took her daughter in her arms, plus the little Niffler, hugging them both. Pressed a kiss to the blonde mob of bed-hair, not wanting Liv to feel so bad.

“It’s alright Livvie, nothing happened after all. But be sure to tell me when you find a creature the next time, ok? Then we can find a solution for it.”

Decided to not cut into the consistent theme of eavesdropping Liv had seemingly going on, though made a mental note to tackle it. Her daughter resting against her for many moments, until the tears subsided and she turned in her lap.

“I’m sorry that I did not say something sooner Mr. Scamander! I thought he was just a wild Niffler at first and later…”

“It’s all right Olivier, it really is. Niffler’s are little escapists, that is not your fault. We just have to get him back to his mom soon.”

The creature in the girl’s hands nodded, though seemed consoled for the moment, resting against her daughter like they’d always been together. A lurch of happiness going through her again at the sight. This was the Liv she knew, cuddling animals, being so kind and thoughtful and showing emotions.

Mr. Scamander speaking on, voice soft and warm and an invite she noticed, his words a test.

“How about you put on some clothes, a pair of boots and get ready for the day? And after breakfast we go and get this little thief back to his family together?”

Felt choked up when her girl nodded keenly. Then Olivier slipped from her lap after one more kiss to get changed, the Niffler on the table waiting patiently, inspecting the cutlery.

The morning taking its course then, Augustina making sure that all the kids ate enough breakfast, Philip back from the ministry during the course of it. Filled in on the mornings happenings and laughing heartily at the shenanigans in this house.

The Niffler ate properly, as did her eldest daughter.

And she just had to smile when the Niffler was then handed hair-clips and jewelry, nothing special, yet incredibly shiny. A few coins from Olivier’s piggy-bank, stuffing it all into his pouch. Liv explaining to her siblings that he was a baby and had set out to impress his family. That he needed treasures for that.

Philips arm coming up around her waist when Liv climbed into the suitcase Mr. Scamander had brought, the Niffler on her head with a full pouch after everybody had chipped in. The Auror watching over them, Mr. Hermann, climbing through the opening after them just to make sure that everything would be alright.

Augustina already knew it would be.

* * *

“Olivier?”

She nodded at the unsaid question of Mr. Scamander, that she was listening, alert, ready to do what he’d told her beforehand. Was trying her hardest to not be nervous, the forest in the dark not as scary with all the people that had come to help rid her of the Obscurus.

Mr. Scamander had explained to her what it was, that the Obscurus was a creature which manifested in children trying to not be magic for whatever reason. That this did not mean that she’d done something wrong, only that the creature had used her distress for its own gain. That he and his friends would separate it from her and that she soon wouldn’t need to fear hurting others on accident at all.

As such she’d not kicked up a fuss when taken by the hand by Mr. Scamander, brought into the woods even though it was _way_ past her bedtime.

“You just sit there, ok? Try to think of the nice creatures you saw today and flying. All the things that are fun!”

Olivier knew that the Obscurus had been at fault for this circle of fallen trees all around her, sitting on a stump in the middle of it. At first, she’d fought that it had been her own magic whenever she woke up in such a circle, but Mr. Scamander’s explanation that the Obscurus had done this, not she who couldn’t even remember it, made sense.

And it made her heart lighter too.

“Everybody, on the count of three! Let’s be careful during the separation, but don’t hold back once we start to bind it!”

The witch with the pointed hat and the sharp nose had introduced herself as Minerva to her. Looked strict, sounded like it too, but had been very kind. Her parents seemingly knew her, she’d seen them talk, but then the second person had already stood before her. A man, tall and huge with a big smile on his face.

“Kingsley Shaklebot little Lady, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Olivier had heard his name before, maybe had seen him in passing, but wasn’t sure. The man striking with his dark skin, the wide and toothy smile. He kissed her hand like one would do with a princess and even after going to talk with the others was always making sure to wink at her or to flash a smile.

Felt his eyes on her now, as well as those of all others watching, nodding silently. The light from their wands almost blinding, a pure white.

Hermann had been close to arguing with her father when he’d been told to keep an eye on her siblings, Mom and Dad both having come here with Mr. Scamander and the others. Were hugging each other not far away, their faces hard to make out in the darkness. She’d been mean to Mr. Hermann these last few months. She’d have to apologize, maybe give him a smooch on the cheek.

He always laughed when she did that.

When Olivier felt her skin start to prick, as well as little black dots swimming before her eyes, she remembered to do what Mr. Scamander had told her.

Imagined herself flying, her broom the best thing she owned. Mom had taught her how to fly, first on a toy-broom, not even an inch over the floor. She’d raced her fathers’ dogs, had been so fast that whoever was watching that day had screamed in shock.

When she’d gotten her first real broom three years ago, she’d been proud. Remembered the store-clerk praising the broom to her father, the flabbergasted look on the salesman’s face when Dad had just said “Very good, can she use it too?”.

No protest, not even the article in the Daily Prophet about what dangerous things the Minister was letting his daughter do yet again, could put a stop to it.

Olivier feeling her eyes get heavier, even with the way her skin was prickling now, her vision swimming. She was so tired, at first thrilled at staying up for so long, but now only wanting to crawl into her bed.

She’d slept so well with the little Niffler on her chest, the fluffy creature unwilling to be more than a big step away from her. Had looked at her toys and jewlerry, played with her and squeaked all the while, clearly having fun with slipping rings on her finger and then subtly trying to steal them, just to slip them on her fingers again.

It had been a fun game, the little creature so happy, jumping around with it’s fluffy fur in all directions, it had…

Olivier felt that her world was turning black, that the spots in her vision were becoming bigger. Mr. Scamander had said that she should just let go then, try to fall asleep. And she’d promised her Mom she would too, so she did.

The world went black.

* * *

„Heavens Kiddo, you’ll get a tummy ache when you eat so fast!“

Hermann was laughing though, head on his hand while watching her, though Olivier knew that his other was close to his wand.

“I _never_ get sick, whatever I eat!”

“I’d say that’s a lie Kiddo, but I’ve watched you eat for so long now, I know it’s true. Tell me your secret!”

She giggled through another spoonful of ice cream, Hermann smiling at her.

Olivier was not sure since when Hermann was watching over her family, it must’ve been some time before Alex, Amue and Gine were born. He had been in the back a lot, or rather at her father’s side almost all the time, the rest of the family protected by...

It still made her sad to think about it.

“You alright little one?”

It was not fake when she smiled at Hermann. Her Dad had told her that it was okay to still be sad, to be a little hesitant to talk. But that it was okay to feel happy too, that Leyla would’ve wanted her to have fun.

“Yes, thank you.”

Hermann just nodded, smiled a little.

When she had been sick, he’d often sat with her, watching cartoons on the TV, reading books with her, playing games. He was fun, albeit looking serious most of the time. He had not even been angry at her when she’d apologized for being so mean to him the months prior.

“And are you excited? A pet, you’ve wanted one for so long!”

Olivier ate another spoonful of ice cream, moving around in her seat a little. She _was_ excited. A whole lot even, especially at the prospect of going into the store, choosing the right pet and taking it home with her. She would care for it, play with it, and make sure that it was feeling all right.

“Yes, I can’t wait.”

Got the last of her ice-cream out of the cup, Hermann quite clearly not letting up. Why were grown-ups always so curious?!

“And do you know already what kind of pet you want? A Kneazle maybe?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Mom had told her that Auror’s were trained to notice when someone lied, and Hermann’s eyebrows were shooting up to his hairline all right, but Olivier did not care. She would choose a pet and she would love it. Maybe they’d even have Niffler’s at the store.

It would not be _the_ Niffler, but she was sure that they would become friends anyways.

“Okay Kiddo. But you will help your father with picking out a family-owl, right?”

Dad was talking to Mr. Fortescue, who owned the ice-cream parlor they were at. Mom was nursing Cathy in the back right now and her siblings were playing some kind of game. Catch she thought, though she was not sure. Amue had not managed her ice cream, so Olivier had volunteered and not joined them.

“Sure, he needs my help after all! Dad can’t tell a Great Horned Owl from a Snowy Owl!”

Hermann laughed, shaking his head at her.

She had not been well the last few months, had not been able to walk much, or really play with her siblings when it involved moving around. Mom and Dad had said that this would happen, Mr. Scamander too. But, while it had been bit boring at times, especially when no one had the time to sit with her, she felt much better than before.

Had read everything about Obscurial’s she could find at home, which wasn’t a lot to begin with, much to her parent’s horror. She had not been able to go to school either, had looked at her schoolbooks at home though and worked through some of the sheets her parents got from her teachers down in the village.

And she’d been with Cathy a lot, her littlest sister easy to watch, mostly lying next to or on top of her, while their mother got some much-needed rest. Was fun, as much as a baby could be at least.

When Olivier noticed Hermann’s gaze stray from her, she turned, seeing how someone was approaching them. A woman, tall, her hair gray and pulled back. Pretty, though she looked around with narrowed eyes, coming closer and closer. A shiver ran down her spine.

“Hermann?”

Before he could open his mouth, do more than stand up and draw her parents gazes like a string, the woman shouted.

“Newt, I found them!”

Not a minute later Mr. Scamander was standing before them all, her parents having come forth, her father rearranging tables and chairs with his wand. She was thoroughly hugged by Mr. Scamander, looked up and down too, his wife opting to introduce herself with a handshake rather, but smiling nonetheless. The grown-ups ordering another tea, while her siblings got some juice. Much to Hermann’s and Mr. Fortescue’s amusement she managed to get another cup of ice cream.

Mr. Scamander was talking to her parents, probably about _her,_ seeing that she caught her name and obvious looks every now and then. Her siblings were drawing on some paper Hermann had produced from his pockets along with some pencils. He’d let her look inside them once, boundaries with magic made much bigger than they usually would be.

Mrs. Scamander, having ended up next to her, was leaning over.

“And how are you my dear?”

“I’m well Mrs. Scamander.”

Her smile was very kind, the wrinkles on her face creasing.

“Call me Tina Olivier, ok?”

As an answer she nodded, mouth still full of ice cream. Her Mom had been adamant about her not swallowing first before speaking and that she was to quickly unlearn that. Yet she still _thought_ it funny that Mr. Scamander’s wife and her Mom shared a name.

“So, I heard today is a big day for you?”

She’d heard her grandma so often talk of children being curious, but Olivier thought that it truly was the other way around. Nodded again though, smiling politely.

“Yes, I’m getting a pet.”

“And what kind?”

She grinned, feeling her father’s eyes on her. This was the moment to catch him listening in.

“Dad said I could pick anything, but then he’d said no to the Hungarian Ironbelly anyways.”

“Its eggs are class A Non-Tradeable Material!”

Her father looked caught for a second, prompting Olivier to laugh wholeheartedly.

“You little fiend!”

A bit of commotion then, everybody laughing, Tina doing something with Mr. Scamander’s suitcase and looking at him chidingly.

She only caught part of his answer.

“… like that! It’s just proof that he wants it.”

It was icky when they exchanged a short kiss, so she looked away. Though not more than two moments later Tina again said her name, trying to catch her attention. The woman’s smile was brilliant.

“So, you not getting a Hungarian Ironbelly aside, which kind of pet?”

She shrugged.

“I’m really not sure yet. I think I’ll just see what kinds they have and decide then.”

While Olivier thought about the kind of pet she wanted, the overly-curious grown-ups seemingly having finally understood that she had no clear answer for them, turned to their own conversations. Her siblings rattling off a whole list of pets they wanted when they were old enough, drawing pictures of them being almost as funny as Catherine was when she burped loudly.

Which seemed to be the signal for all of them to get moving again, her Mom reminding everyone of how much still was to do.

Funnily enough though, Olivier ended up in front of the pet store with her parents and the Scamander’s, Hermann and her siblings already at Flourish and Blotts. At least she’d have some time, her siblings all able to scour any bookstore for hours on end.

Walked the rows of cages, peering into shiny eyes, letting noses sniff at hers when they came close enough. Her Mom saying again before entering the store, that she could pick any pet she wanted, while her Dad and the Scamander’s talked about how this pet-store was his favorite for many reasons.

Paid them no mind as they spoke with the clerk, though felt their eyes on her. Looked at a Kneazle instead, a female, fur a pure and glossy white. It stared right back, tail twitching with interest. Its eyes followed her too, especially as she went to inspect the rats more closely. Hopping on their tales they looked at her, sniffing the air. In one of the big cages she spotted several owls, plenty sitting close to the bars and either sleeping or ignoring her.

Olivier knew that she did not want an owl, but her dad wanted to get another one. Had told her how his letters that needed to be send had seemingly doubled since stepping down as minister, as such wanting another owl for the family. In the back of the cage a Great Grey sitting, acting like it wasn’t looking but still catching her eye. She’d have to tell her Dad about it before they left.

Walked around a bit more after, looked at Crups and Toads, a slur of Pygmy Puff’s in all colors of the rainbow.

Felt the gazes of the grown-ups on her all the time, though knew also that she took long, clearly couldn’t decide. Her Mom was walking the rows of animals too, together with Mrs. Scamander, Catherine babbling wide-eyed when seeing some of the magical creatures. Her father was still talking to the clerk, laughing, seemingly knowing everybody they met anywhere.

And Mr. Scamander just turned up behind her, hand on her shoulder.

“Hard to choose, huh?”

It wasn’t a grown-up voice he was using, instead sounded warm, understanding. She wished for a suitcase as he had, not wanting to choose just one with what she wanted not to be had.

“The white Kneazle is nice. Seems interested in me too. And one of the little Crups was very eager to be petted, but I don’t know. Grandpa’s Crups never liked my muggle-friends.”

A chuckle.

“Yeah, Crups can be pretty mean towards muggles. And you are right, the Kneazle is a beautiful one, I think it even caught your mothers’ eye.”

Took a look back, the creature truly interested in her Mom with how it gazed at her. Even more so it seemed, in Cathy.

“But Olivier, maybe one of the Rats? You looked at them for a long while, and they seemed quite eager to be seen by you too. Animals good a good feeling for people, you know? The clerk would surely show you to them one after another, it’s hard when they’re…”

She knew what Mr. Scamander wanted to say, but also that he’d probably never finish his sentence, because his suitcase seemed to have gained a life of its own all of a sudden. Had thumbed to the floor, drawing all gazes of human and animal alike, one of the locks snapping open.

A thin nose pushing through the tiny opening, followed by lots of fuzz. And squeaking.

“Yes! No! I wasn’t! No, I truly wasn’t pushing her in another… oh come on, you can’t be serious?!”

Olivier had never before seen a Niffler stand on the edge of a suitcase, cussing a person out. And _the_ Niffler was doing just that, Mr. Scamander confronted with the accusation of trying to set her up with another pet, while _he_ was the best there could ever be for her.

It took a while to sink in.

And it took the embrace of her Mom to quell her tears after it had finally sunken in, as well as furry little paws touching at her face and sniffing about, after a bit of rummaging clipping something in her hair she could identify without a touch.

“He’s been squeaking in my ears about you ever since we left that day. So, if you still want him, and by his squeaks I have the fear that you won’t get a say in the matter, he will be yours.”

Was just happy then, tears gone, jumping and dancing around, the Niffler on her shoulder squeaking and hopping in tune.

They’d set this up, Olivier was sure, but how could she be mad? Instead said thank you, a thousand times, weighed the much more grown Niffler in her hands, pressing a kiss to his nose and to his fur, which was requited with nose-kisses from it. Mr. Scamander answering all her questions for proper care, the little creature inspecting several pre-made nests the store clerk offered, while her Mom talked her Dad into getting the Kneazle too.

Her Dad not long after asking her opinion on owls, the grumpy Great Gray seeming surprised at being picked, the clerk visibly relaxing as the animal had seemingly waited for a home for a good long while.

And thoroughly winded and hugged and happy, her family parted ways from the Scamander’s. They waved, her Niffler on her head too, squeaking after him. Her siblings and Mr. Hermann later with astonishment greeting the little Niffler, praising her choice, or rather her being chosen.

And an hour later, after walking through a few more stores and getting more stuff than they could carry, she felt that she was getting tired fast. Hadn’t been on her feet for so long in months. Her Dad noticing, against her protests and embarrassment lifting her up. Her Niffler on her head, slowly going under too after all the excitement.

The whispers of her Dad in Olivier’s ear, asking her what she’d name her Niffler, her little furry protector from all evil creatures.

Didn’t hear his snort when she gave him her answer, falling asleep against his shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> This one got... quite a bit out of hand....  
> ...You know that there's a myth in Ireland, that a werewolf turns back when you throw his clothes at him?^^
> 
> Hey guys, this story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. The goal of it is to make commenting easier for readers and to increase the feedback writers get. As such, I invite you to leave:
> 
> _Short comments_   
>  _Long comments_   
>  _Questions_   
>  _Constructive criticism_   
>  _Reader-reader interaction_   
>  _extra-kudos as <3_
> 
> I cherish all comments, weather they be long or short, even only one word makes me squeal with happiness after all. And if you’re seeing this fic ten years after I published it, don’t worry: Old or new, I’ll still love what you left me to read <3 I answer to all comment btw, though it sometimes takes me a day or two. Should you not want me to answer, just write _whisper_ in front of it.  
>  I thank you for reading this fic of mine through to the end. As I said, I appreciate all comments and kudos and should you want to get into direct contact with me [this is my tumblr](http://illidria.tumblr.com/). There you can get into discussions with me, or even send in wish-fics.  
> Happy reading and thank you <3


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